


Holy, Holy, Holy

by ravenclawkohai



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, M/M, summon!cloud
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-06-22 14:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15583539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenclawkohai/pseuds/ravenclawkohai
Summary: Cloud Strife is an old god trapped in a Summon materia, which Sephiroth finds hidden in Nibelheim.





	1. Chapter 1

               “Do you think it’s a halo or some kind of hair?”

               “I don’t think it particularly matters.”

               Zack set down the little wooden figure and turned to look at Sephiroth.

               “You don’t think it’s a _little_ curious? They’ve got statues and shrines for this guy everywhere.”

               “There were statues and shrines for Leviathan everywhere in Wutai. It’s nothing we haven’t seen before.”

               “Yeah, but Wutai has a whole pantheon to go with Leviathan.  Nibelheim just seems to have the one. Though I still can’t get a straight answer about whether or not he’s the god of clouds or of strife.”

               “Either would be fitting for the area.”

               Zack flopped back on the bed in their rented bedroom in the inn, still staring at the shrine. It featured a little figure, carved from wood, with a mass of spikes on its head and a large sword on its back. The carved face was solemn, if a little crude. The shrine, in comparison to others they’d seen, was plain and small, featuring only a pine wreath and a shot glass full of what seemed to be very strong liquor by the smell of it. Others had been bedecked with local vegetation of all kinds, from flowers to leaves to woven baskets of straw. There were offerings of a wide variety of food and drink, though there seemed to be a strong preference for alcohols, salted meats, and berries. Many featured materia, as there was allegedly a local fountain that produced it, hidden deep in the mountains at a location that the town as a whole refused to disclose.

               The paintings and carvings, other than the small, spike-topped figures, featured a lot of wolves and delicate, intricate knotwork with a preference for storm-sky blue. The figures on the altars were carved out of everything from rock to wood to sculpted ceramics, with varying levels of skill. Some, such as the shrine in the inn, were plain and likely done by the owner, who had just tried their best. Others, like the large altar in the middle of the town square, were created by a master. The largest statue was carved from the streaked gray stone of the mountainside. In this, the spikes looked most like hair, the features delicate yet serious. The outfit featured a simple robe, cinched at the waist with a large belt with a complex symbol in the middle. The figure was barefoot, perhaps as a sign of divine triumph over the cold.

               When asked about the deity, the locals called him “Cloud Strife,” but wouldn’t elaborate on his function as a god, his theoretical powers, or his stories. In fact, all they seemed content to give was the name.

               When Zack had pressed out of curiosity, the man in question had scowled and asked, “Why, are you looking to convert? No? Then mind your business.”

               Sephiroth, for his part, could appreciate the beauty and skill that went into the creation of the altars, but had little interest in the mysticism behind it. As far as he was concerned, it was another show of rural ignorance, the kind that blossomed purely out of a lack of exposure to science. “Deities” were simply strong monsters confined to Summon materia that happened to be powerful enough to gather a following, nothing more.

               It did make him wonder just where the Nibel folk were hiding the Summon materia, though.

               He and Zack had been called out to investigate a problem with the local reactor. There was an apparent leak, which, according to the stories of the locals, the monsters had been getting into. On their trek up to the reactor, they found more than one mako-crazed wolf and even one unfortunate, infected dragon.

               When he had asked the townsfolk about any missing people caused by the mako monsters, they had claimed there were none.

               Knowing this was almost impossible, Sephiroth had pressed, saying, “Not _one_ person has gone missing?”

               The innkeeper had shaken his head and said, “Not one. We’re safe in the town, and those that go out to hunt or gather where His sign. It keeps them safe in the wilderness.”

               He had clutched at a necklace made of hammered steel and twine, carved to feature the intricate symbol on the belt of the large statue in the center of town. They had seen almost everyone in town wearing one visibly. When they had asked one without such a sign about it, she had just blinked at them and pulled out the necklace, which had just been hidden under her shirt, “to be closer to her heart.”

               Zack, quietly, began to wonder if maybe there was something to this whole “Cloud Strife” thing when he heard about the lack of disappearances, but the last thing he would do is mention that to Sephiroth.

               He did, however, keep it in mind the whole way up to the reactor and right through the fights with the wildlife. He was still wondering about the possibility of an actual god helping these people survive the harsh local climate when they found the leak and Sephiroth sealed it with a well-aimed and controlled fire spell.

               He didn’t think his curiosity was noticeable until later that night, when they went to stay in the Shinra Mansion. There were a few out of town visitors and the inn had a distinct lack of rooms available, so they moved to the Mansion without much fuss. They were both surprised to see another large shrine to Cloud Strife in the foyer.

               “Even here?” Sephiroth had said, coming to stand in front of the shrine.

               The shrine was covered in a layer of dust that said it wasn’t attended to anymore. There were two drinking horns on stands with a layer of crystallized sugar from where the alcohol had evaporated. The altar it was on was decorated in a motif of knotted wolves chasing one another with strangely serene looks on their carved faces. The statue here was carved out of a light wood, the spikes more resembling a halo this time, with blue paint on the irises that matched the knots on the altar. A plate with crumbs attested to an offering that had long since been pilfered by local wildlife, and there was a nest of dried blooms covering the altar and feet of the statue.

               “I’m surprised Shinra let them make one in here,” Zack said, coming to stand at Sephiroth’s side, looking up at the tall statue.

               “They might have built it after the Shinra presence diminished. Or insisted on it—it seems every building has at least one in it.”

               “But this one’s big. It doesn’t look like something they made to appease the locals.”

               Sephiroth shrugged lightly and said, “It doesn’t matter.”

               He began walking away to the staircase on the right, and after another long moment of looking up at the wooden face, Zack jogged to catch up. It wasn’t until after they were on the landing and Zack looked back at the statue, just one more glance, and froze. He smacked Sephiroth’s arm before he could get out of reach.

               “Seph.”

               He sighed and turned to look at his lieutenant.

               “What is it?”

               “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

               “I don’t know, Zack, what are you seeing?”

               “Red materia in the slot of that sword.”

               Sephiroth’s eyes shot over to find that, sure enough, there was a red materia implanted in the round slots by the hilt of the carved sword.

               “Come on,” Zack said, slapping Sephiroth’s arm one more time, before vaulting over the banister.

               Sephiroth had been fighting his intrigue about the deity since he arrived in the town. He’d seen plenty of gods and goddesses, seen a variety of worship and practices in his travels around the world. But this consistent devotion to one god, the universal practices, was unusual. There was usually some variation beyond the carvings being made out of different materials. Disagreements on lore, instead of being entirely close-lipped. Disagreements on what made suitable offerings, on how to say prayers, of what the deity looked like and how to portray them. Different monikers. Anything. But the Nibel folk were so damnably consistent that it became curious, even to him.

               (That was saying nothing about the way the god seemed to _actually_ protect the locals, not that he would ever admit to considering that an actual possibility.)

               Sephiroth leapt over the banister as well, landing lightly as Zack took off for the statue. He followed at a stroll, not bothering to race ahead as Zack had, something in him wary at the possibility of what they’d found.

               “Do you think this is why they don’t come in here? To hide it?” Zack asked as he began climbing onto the back of the altar.

               “That’s assuming this summons Cloud Strife. It could summon anything.”

               “Yeah, right.”

               “Decoys do exist, Zack.”

               “Sure, I’m just saying this probably isn’t one.”

               Zack stood upright on the top of the altar and pulled out a pocket knife. Gently, he pried the materia out of the sword’s slot, catching it deftly as it fell. He folded his knife up and put it back in its pocket, staring down at the orb as he jumped back down onto the floor.

               “This is definitely a real Summon, Seph. It’s freezing.”

               “Materia produces no heat, and it is winter in the mountains.”

               “I _know_ that, and I’m saying that if my hands were wet, they’d be sticking to this. Here.”

               Zack passed the materia over to Sephiroth, and, sure enough, it was cold enough that Sephiroth could feel it biting through his gloves.

               There was a power pulsing through it, a deep energy that only ever came from Summons. This was real. The only question is if it was who they thought it was.

               “We gotta try it,” Zack said in a whisper.

               “I’m not sure that’s wise,” Sephiroth said, refusing to acknowledge the new gravitas that had him whispering back. “The locals would try to skin us.”

               “They don’t have to _know_.”

               “You know how summons are, Zack. It will be big, flashy, and loud, and the entire town will immediately be aware of what we’ve done.”

               “With how big this place is? No one’s gonna notice anything, Seph. C’mon, let’s just try.”

               Sephiroth knew he should argue more.

               He also knew that he did want to try the materia.

               “Just once,” Sephiroth said sternly, though it was unclear if he was admonishing himself or Zack. Zack, who gave him a huge grin.

               “Let’s do this,” he encouraged, taking a step back as Sephiroth equipped the materia, sliding it into his bracer. He outstretched a hand, fed the materia power, and…

               Nothing happened.

               Sephiroth looked down at the materia in confusion.

               It had the power there, lying latent but potent. Was he imagining it, just being hopeful?

               “Maybe you should—”

               “You two aren’t from around here.”

               Both Zack and Sephiroth whipped around.

               There, sitting on the back of the altar where Zack had stood, leaning back on hands buried in dried blossoms, was a man that was distinctly familiar.

               Turned out the spikes _were_ hair.

               Cloud Strife sat with one knee crossed over the other, his bare feet dangling. He wore the simple robe and complex belt he was depicted with in all his statues, but the solemn expression was missing. His wide, blue eyes were soft, but everything on his face read curiosity. He tilted his head to the side.

               “Why are you here?”

               Zack opened his mouth immediately, feeling suddenly compelled to tell the truth.

               “We’re here to fix the mako reactor leak.”

               “Ah,” the god hummed. “What’s been poisoning the wildlife. Thank you, that will make my job much easier.”

               His _job_.

               So he _was_ protecting the town?

               “Why didn’t you fix it yourself?” Sephiroth challenged, immediately earning an incredulous look from Zack.

               “The reactor is out of my control.”

               “I thought you were a god.”

               Cloud blinked at him, before smiling. It was caught somewhere between fond and wolf-edged. It would have been comforting, if it wasn’t disconcerting.

               “You’re Shinra, aren’t you? They never did believe.”

               “Who have you come in contact with from Shinra? The people who built the reactor?”

               “You have quite a few questions, don’t you?”

               “Not every day you meet a god, huh?” Zack interrupted, attempting to diffuse the situation.

               Cloud’s eyes flickered between them for a second, contemplating. And then he smiled again, but it leaned more toward fond this time.

               “I’ll answer all your questions on one condition.”

               Sephiroth snorted. Always a catch.

               “What is it?” he snapped. Zack shot him a warning look, but he ignored it.

               Cloud’s smile turned decidedly wolfish.

               “You take me with you.”

               “What?” Zack asked. “But these are your people. You don’t want to stay with them?”

               Cloud waved a hand, saying, “I can do my job from anywhere. Sitting in a statue for decades gets boring.”

               “But—”

               “Done,” Sephiroth interrupted.

               The wolf grin returned, wide.

               Cloud hopped down from the altar and approached, his walk slow and steady, and gods, but it was clear now why his motifs were all wolves. It was written into his every movement.

               When he reached Sephiroth, he held out his hand.

               “Your answers for bringing me with you.”

               Sephiroth took his hand, shook it once firmly, and said, “Deal.”

               Zack looked between the two and was suddenly overcome with anxiety.

               This decision was questionable at best.

               (Much, much more than questionable in reality.)


	2. Chapter 2

With the deal struck, Cloud clapped his hands together loudly, sudden enough that Zack jumped and Sephiroth had to fight the urge to do the same. He grinned again.

“You two have a decision to make. I can come with you as we are, or you can dispel me and summon me again. It depends on how you want to interact with my people.”

“Don’t you want to see them?” Zack asked, something confused in his expression.

Cloud looked at him like he had six heads.

“I see them every hour of every day,” he said slowly, as if it was obvious. “If you’re asking if I want to go be among them, I’m surprised you have to ask. Of course I do.”

“Well then we have our answer, right?” Zack said, looking to Sephiroth, who looked unconvinced.

“It will change how Nibelheim interacts with the company if we walk out with their god in tow. Either they’ll feel beholden to the company and love us, or think we’ve been keeping him from them all this time and hate us. It will make a large difference, but we don’t know which way. Unless you can hazard a guess?”

He aimed this question pointedly at Cloud, who flashed that wolf-grin back at him.

“Oh no,” he said, amusement laced in his tone, “this is your decision.”

“You’re a Summon, your only function is to provide assistance,” Sephiroth said, and Zack shot him a look that questioned his sanity. It wasn’t in the interest of self-preservation to give gods attitudes.

“You have no understanding of how Summons really work, do you?”

“Of course I do. I summon you, you fight for me, you go back in your materia.”

“If that’s all, then why are we talking instead of fighting right now?”

Sephiroth paused. This was, admittedly, his first time summoning without a battle at hand. Cloud dropped his weight into one hip and wrapped a hand around his elbow, gesturing with his free hand.

“When you activate a Summon, you give the god in question an order,” Cloud explained. “We appear, complete the order, and go back to our rest. Since we’re usually summoned in battle, the implicit order is always ‘give my enemy your biggest attack.’ But you can order anything.”

“ _Anything_. How does no one know this?”

“Humans are stupid. You slipped and fell into figuring out a function and assumed that, because other materia only have one function, Summons do as well. Our orders never give us a chance to talk, and I doubt most of us would be inclined to tell you either way. I’ll get enough Hel for this as is, once the others find out; no one likes the idea of being at the beck and call of humans.”

Sephiroth blinked at him. It was as informative as it was insulting.

“I don’t recall giving you any order when I summoned you just now.”

“The order is whatever you desire, whether or not you give the want words. You ordered me to come meet you.” Cloud spread his hands. “Here I am.”

“Then when does this encounter end?”

“When this conversation does. If you want to bring me into town, you’ll have to summon me again.”

“What if I summon you again with orders to advise us on bringing you into town?”

Cloud shrugged.

“You could. It would just be incredibly boring and a waste of mana. Better to make the decision yourselves.”

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes at the god.

“You say that because you’d find it more entertaining.”

“I thought that was obvious,” Cloud said, entirely unapologetic.

Zack hid a laugh very, very poorly in a cough. Sephiroth sent him a glare. Cloud clapped his hands twice.

“Make a decision.”

Zack and Sephiroth looked at each other.

“It can’t hurt,” Zack said with a shrug.

“It can. If they turn on the company, they can break the reactor, or cut supply lines.”

“I doubt they’d go _that_ far.”

“You’ve seen how devoted they are to him; I’d be more surprised if they didn’t.”

“Shinra’s got plenty of reactors.”

“Zack, if the President found out we cost him one, he’d have our heads, rank or no.”

“How’s he gonna find out? Even if he asks the townspeople, you think he’ll believe them? That we found a long-lost god and traipsed him through down?”

“… That does sound like something he’d have trouble believing. It’s something _I’d_ have trouble believing.”

“As far as we know, we’re the only ones who know that Summons take orders instead of just attacking. There’s no reason for him to believe any story the people tell him.”

Sephiroth paused a moment and almost did a double take at the look on Cloud’s face. He looked enraptured watching them discuss the matter. When he caught Sephiroth looking, he failed to appear apologetic.

“The way humans think is fascinating,” Cloud said by way of explanation before gesturing. “Don’t mind me. Continue.”

Sephiroth glanced at the god one more time before looking back to his lieutenant.

“We’ll take him into town, but only after we’ve completed our mission.” He stopped and looked pointedly at Cloud. “Is that acceptable?”

Cloud shrugged and said, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sephiroth snorted.

“Then I believe we’ve resolved the issue; your show is over. This conversation is done. Go back to your rest.”

Cloud disappeared, leaving a lingering sigh behind him.

When he looked back, Zack was looking at him oddly.

“What?”

“You just dismissed a _god_. Are you afraid of _anything?_ ”

“Not gods. They’re powerful, but they’re trapped in materia, and apparently obedient.”

“I don’t think he’ll like you calling him obedient.”

“I don’t much care. There’s nothing he can do about it.”

“He protects the town. He clearly still has _some_ power, even when he’s in the materia.”

Sephiroth spread his hands in a wide gesture.

“Then let him strike me down.”

There was a long moment where nothing happened, except the wind. A breeze that made the house creak as it passed through, either the wind itself or the groaning of the house sounding strangely like a distant laugh. Zack glanced to the side at the noise, but Sephiroth refused to acknowledge it as anything other than the wind. He dropped his hands but raised an eyebrow.

“See? Nothing to fear.”

“ _I_ think it just doesn’t suit his best interest to kill us now. He needs to hitch a ride out of here somehow, and it won’t be on a set of dead bodies.”

“He could kill me and still leave with you.”

“Seph, if he killed you, do you really think I would still bring him?”

“You _apparently_ are the god-fearing type.”

“God- _respecting_. And that just means I’d be trying to get as far away from him as possible.”

“I didn’t take you for a coward, Zackary.”

Zack shrugged.

“I was always told to pick my battles. I just happen to know that _that_ is one I would lose.”

“You don’t know that.”

Zack’s eyebrows shot up.

“I do, Sephiroth. I really do.”

Zack shook his head and made his way back up the staircase they had been on earlier. Sephiroth went after him, passing him with his longer stride, and Zack could have _sworn_ he heard him said, “Coward,” as he passed. From the smug look on Sephiroth’s face, he guessed he heard right.


	3. Chapter 3

The SOLDIERs made quick work of their mission. The leak was easily repaired and, while there was nothing to do about the spilled mako without something to clean it up with, they fixed the heart of the matter. A second team could be sent out to clean up the rest with the proper supplies, or it would dry up on its own. With the mission at hand over with, they, only reluctantly, turned back to the matter of the materia. This was going to be a show, and Sephiroth for one had a distaste for such things. He had been paraded around too many times to like this kind of affair, but Cloud had been very clear that he wanted to go. It was the only reason he agreed. Zack was more nervous about the outcome than the actual presentation. No one would say a word to them while the god was there, he was sure of that. It was only after he’d gone that shit might hit the fan. _That_ he was decidedly not excited for.

Still, they found themselves standing in the foyer, Sephiroth sending a lick of power into his bracer to make it glow. He focused his will, thinking intently that he was summoning the god to bring the god to meet his people and that it would be over once the three were alone again. He hoped he was clear, and that he had a truly functioning understanding of how this worked. He wouldn’t be surprised if the god _happened_ to leave out some key point just to keep the upper hand.

Regardless of what he thought about it, there was a flash of light, and there stood Cloud Strife, in all his modest glory. He wore his simple robe and belt, his sword at his back, his bare toes against the grimy floor. He stretched his arms above his head and leaned back before tilting his head from side to side. Zack wondered if it might be a little cramped in the materia, and then wondered about the metaphysics of putting at god in a palm-sized orb, and then put the matter aside before it gave him a headache. When Cloud was done stretching, he turned and walked away without a word. Zack could understand that they weren’t his first priority right now, but Sephiroth was a little irritated by the rudeness.

Cloud had a long stride when he walked this time, in a hurry with almost a skip to his step. There was anticipation about him, a fierce longing that was obvious. Sephiroth could say what he wanted about the god, but it was clear he was as devoted to his people as they were to him, despite his longing to leave the town.

They arrived in the center of town only to find it completely empty. It wasn’t entirely surprising, as it was freezing out and there was nothing to call people outdoors. Cloud didn’t look disappointed, only patient, as if he knew this would happen and was content to wait; which he probably did, either out of familiarity with his people or some sort of godly omnipotence. Sephiroth, for one, didn’t like the idea of him having any sort of omnipotence at all.

Cloud came to stand in front of the large statue of him at the center of town and put his hands on his hips as the SOLDIERs came to stand next to him.

“It’s a bit overkill, isn’t it?” he said, looking up at his own likeness.

“Yes,” Sephiroth said without any hesitation. Cloud glanced at him and snorted a laugh.

“Your lack of reverence is honestly a little refreshing,” Cloud admitted, turning his eyes back up to the statue.

Until they heard the sound of a door creak open.

Tentatively, an old woman came out of a home across the courtyard. Her eyes were huge and her hands clasped in front of her as she creeped out from her home, unsure of what she was seeing.

Sephiroth and Zack turned back to Cloud to see him completely changed. Gone was the attitude and any trace that it had ever been there. His face was soft, beatific as he looked at the old woman. He crossed to her slowly, giving her time to come to terms with what she was seeing.

“Lord of Strife,” she whispered as he got to her, and he gave her a truly beautiful smile.

“Aada,” he said quietly. “Your daughter says hello.”

The old woman’s eyes began to shine with tears. He reached out and cupped her cheek and she turned her head into the gesture, tears falling. Cloud brushed them away with his thumb.

“She says not to come too quickly. There’s no rush. But,” he continued, raising his other hand to cup her face between his palms, “she did ask me for a favor. Your joints ache, don’t they?”

“They do,” she whispered, tone awed as she looked up at him.

He smiled softly, the expression itself a gift, and she gasped sharply before blowing the breath out slowly.

“There. Better?”

“Very much, Lord.”

“None of that, Aada,” he said, much to Sephiroth’s surprise. The SOLDIER would have thought he would collect the reverence as his due. It seemed it was more something to be tolerated. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” she said, and the light in her eyes was pure devotion, pure love. If nothing else, Cloud was cherished by his people.

“Test out those joints of yours for me. Would you find some of the others? I’d love to see them.”

She smiled widely and nodded. She gave a little bow of respect before walking off, her gait much more sure and steady now. Perhaps Cloud really _had_ healed her.

He watched her wander off with something gentle in his eyes. He knew that if he waited others would come, but word of mouth was quicker, and Aada could use the joy of being the bearer of good news, now that she was so old and alone, her only daughter having passed before her.

Sephiroth approached him, Zack following behind him.

“Did you really heal her?”

“Hmm?” Cloud said, distracted. It took a moment for him to look back at the general, and when he did, his expression was confused. “Of course I did. She was in pain, and I’m here.”

“I thought you were a god of clouds and strife, not of healing.”

His expression twisted with wry amusement as he said, “You truly have no understanding of how this works, do you?”

Before Sephiroth could say anything, a door was flung open, and Cloud forgot the SOLDIERs entirely.

He crossed over to the middle aged man, tall and muscled, brunette like the little girl who was hiding behind his ankles.

“Sebastian,” Cloud greeted, warmth radiating from him again. The man bowed, and Cloud smiled up at him before crouching down. “And little Tifa. You’ve gotten so big so quick.”

“I’m not little,” Tifa grumbled, and her father looked down at her in horror, right up until Cloud let out a bell-like laugh. He reached out and ruffled her hair, only for her to wrinkle her nose at the gesture.

“Child, even your father is little to me.”

“But he’s bigger than you are.”

“I am _so_ sorry,” Sebastian said, looking like he couldn’t believe this was happening. Cloud grinned up at him.

“Whatever for? She’s a sweet child, and I like a little mischief,” he said, ruffling her hair again just to watch her huff again before standing upright.

By the time he did, another person had arrived.

Cloud greeted him with a warm, “Ville,” and began to ask about his son who had left town.

He greeted the next woman as, “Janika,” and the one after that as “Lahja.” It kept going, Cloud addressing each newcomer by name. Marjukka, Eemeli, Heikki, Terho, Venla. He met children with special warmness, crouching down to their level. The children were less shy than their parents, giving the god hugs and kisses that he returned with unrestrained delight. The adults kept bowing, and Cloud tolerated. He accepted one formal address per person: Lord of Strife, King of the Clouds, God of Skies. After that he insisted on simply “Cloud” or “Strife,” though most of the people weren’t brave enough to actually address him that way.

He touched the townsfolk softly but frequently, making sure to make contact with each at least once, which was a feat in itself when he was encircled the way he was. He pushed through them every now and again—or rather, he moved, and they parted like water. He made his rounds with greetings, but he also performed miracles left and right. He healed the sick and the elderly and gave gifts, producing food for families, flowers and candy for children. More than once he insisted on being brought to a family’s home where he made repairs, healing rotted wood, making roofs rethatch themselves, filling holes that let in the frigid winter air. He made promises for plentiful supplies for the winter and mild weather and reminded them to check the mako fountain. When he did this, they burst forth with promises for offerings and prayers, which he laughed off, saying they had always done their part and that they should let him do his.

Zack watched this unfold with warmth in his heart. Gongaga had its own small goddess, and he remembered her fondly. He knew most houses had a little, simple shrine to her—his own had. The level of devotion was nothing like it was here, but it reminded him of home. It was encouraging to see Cloud among his people, his dedication to them and their welfare. He didn’t know if Gongaga’s goddess worked quite as hard as Cloud did, but he was an example of what a god could be. It gave him hope.

It gave Sephiroth distress more than it did hope. He’d always considered the idea of gods to be garbage. He’d been taught so at a very young age. Gods were just powerful monsters locked in materia that came to be worshipped for their strength. It was misplaced devotion by the ignorant and nothing more. Yet here was a god doing more than fighting when called. A god as devoted to his people as they were to him. Here he was, performing miracles and calling each by name like he really did watch over them all. He was everything Sephiroth had known that gods were not. It was upsetting his worldview, and he didn’t like it.

Cloud, for his part, could not have cared less about the SOLDIERs. They were a means to an end for the moment. Oh, they were interesting. Something out of the norm, something curious, and being immortal, he was often bored. That made them something of a commodity to him, but little else. They were not his people. He owed them nothing. He would give what was required of him and nothing else. Gods worked in reciprocity: a gift for a gift. Even if he was inclined to give the SOLDIERs something, he could do nothing unless gifted something first. His freedom could be considered a gift, but he didn’t have it yet. Letting him see his people was their first favor, and he would consider returning it. They didn’t understand how things worked. In Shinra, he knew, the concept of a gift for a gift had long been discarded as selfish. Gifts were to be given freely with expectation of nothing in return. That wasn’t how things were done in Nibelheim, or with the gods themselves. Gifts were returned with gifts out of a sense of sharing, of community building and reciprocity. For gods, there was the added necessity of worship. Without it, they were left all but powerless, reduced to what Sephiroth had always thought them to be. But, when the relationship between god and people flourished, so much more was possible. If he proved that to them, so much the better, but they weren’t his focus, and likely never would be.

It was hours later when the sun was finally setting that Cloud got a sad look on his face. He looked up at the sun and said, “My time is up.”

There were gasps and protests and groans, but they were silent when Cloud held his hands up. He smiled softly.

“I’ll return. It may be some time, but I will. Until then, wait for me.”

He leaned over and kissed young Tifa, falling asleep in her father’s arms, and then turned around. He made his way through the crowd that parted for him easily and, slowly, walked away.

He made his way back toward the manor, but the townsfolk only watched him sadly until he was out of sight. Sephiroth didn’t understand. They clearly wanted to still be with him, but they wouldn’t follow him. No one dared to reach out and take what they wanted from him.

It wasn’t the sort of behavior he would stand for. He went to go after Cloud when he felt Zack’s hand restraining him at the elbow. He looked back over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows, but Zack shook his head.

“Wait. Let them have their miracle. We’ll spoil it if we go after him right now.”

“You aren’t buying into all of this, are you?”

 _I think I might be_ , Zack thought to himself, but what he said to Sephiroth was, “Of course not. Just a little sympathy for the townspeople. Don’t be a spoilsport and let them have their moment, alright?”

Sephiroth looked begrudging, but he settled back to allow it, his arms crossed.

The townsfolk spent a while chattering excitedly to themselves. They collectively marveled at the gifts they had been given, tangible and intangible alike, and it was taking long enough that Sephiroth was getting severely impatient. Eventually, however, they began to disperse, and when they were at least mostly gone he began walking back toward the manor. Zack wanted to wait until they were all back in their homes, but called it good enough. At least no one called out to stop them as they made their way back toward Cloud.

Cloud, who was waiting for them back in the manor, sitting cross-legged on his own altar. He looked up at them when they entered. He opened his mouth to say something, possibly to give his thanks.

And then he promptly disappeared.

Sephiroth blinked.

Zack blinked.

They looked at each other.

Then Sephiroth remembered the parameters he had set when he summoned the god. To stay “until they were alone again.” Stupid.

He sighed and shook his head, so Zack shrugged.

“Guess it was a success, at least?”

“If you want to call it that.”

“The people in town seemed happy, at least. So did Cloud.”

“It’s the last part that bothers me.”

“You can’t possibly hate him so much that it bothers you to see him happy.”

Sephiroth shot him a look and a frown.

“ _No_ , Zackary. It’s just… concerning. Do all gods care for their people so much, or is it just him?”

“If you have philosophical questions, you’d get further asking him than me. I don’t have the answers.”

“And he does?”

“About the functions of gods and their temperaments?  Better than most, I’d guess.”

“… I’ll think about it.”

“Whatever, that’s up to you. We heading out tomorrow?”

“We did our part for him. We’ll bring him home and then ask our questions. It’ll be helpful to get as much information on Summons as we can.”

“More like you’re curious and don’t know when to leave things alone.”

“He agreed to answer,” Sephiroth said. “But yes, Zack. Exactly.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sephiroth and Zack woke the next morning bright and early; their pickup was coming at 0800. They woke with the dawn and had a breakfast of rations, not because there wasn’t food available in the town, but because they wanted privacy to talk.

“So,” Zack said. “What now?”

“Now we decided what to do with this god.”

Zack sighed at the tone but let it pass.

“Do you want to summon him now or when we get back to Shinra?” Zack asked, breaking off a piece of his ration bar and popping it in his mouth.

Sephiroth hummed.

“When we get there, I think. I don’t want the town to see us walk out with him, and I’d rather not explain him to Shinra. The fewer people that know about him, the better.”

“We won’t be able to keep him a secret forever, you have to know that.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t keep quiet about him for as long as possible. If we don’t let him walk around, no one should find out immediately.”

“I doubt he’ll be okay with leaving it at that. He’s gonna want his freedom, Seph.”

“He isn’t going to get it. It would be worse for him if the Science Department got its hands on him.”

Zack grimaced.

“True. Still, keeping him captive doesn’t sit right with me, and I’m surprised it does with you.”

The look Sephiroth gave him was sharp. If Zack wasn’t so used to him and the looks he could give, he would have at least sat up straight. Instead, he lazily raised an eyebrow.

“We’ll discuss it with him.”

“You know what he’ll say.”

“ _We’ll discuss it with him_.”

Zack held up his hands.

“Whatever you say. Just figure out what your answer will be when he asks for his freedom. And know that I’m going to press you about it if you try and confine him to the materia forever.”

Sephiroth gave him that sharp look again, for once wishing Zack was a lower ranking SOLDIER, one that the look would have worked on. Not that he would trade Zack for the world.

“Our agreement was to take him with us, nothing more. I won’t have broken my word.”

“That’s a technicality and you know it.”

Sephiroth snorted and returned to his breakfast, pettily winning with silence.

Zack let it lie through breakfast. In fact, he let it lie through the entire flight home, right up until they were standing in Sephiroth’s apartment, Summon materia in hand.

He didn’t realize the way Sephiroth spent the entire trip trying to figure out what to do. On the one hand, Zack was right. It was unfair and arguably cruel to leave Cloud stranded in the materia when he could be free. He had proven to be a sentient being held in relative captivity, regardless of whether or not his awareness, spirit, whatever was able to wander. But Cloud couldn’t know the risks of wandering Shinra. He couldn’t know what the Science Department was like. He wasn’t aware of the dangers. Still, it sat wrong with Sephiroth to make that decision for him. He had a mind of his own. If he wanted to risk his long term freedom and well-being for a few pleasure jaunts, well, that was up to him, wasn’t it?

He had come to a (reluctant) conclusion by the time Zack brought it up again.

“So, what are we doing with our pocket-god?”

Sephiroth rolled his eyes at the title.

“Now who’s irreverent?”

Zack shrugged, saying, “Not irreverent, just funny. He seemed to have a sense of humor.”

“Why don’t we ask him?” Sephiroth said, pulling the materia from his pocket. He held it in one hand, gripped it lightly, and flicked power through it.

Now that he had a better understanding of how this worked, he was clearer with his instructions.

 _Come out until I dismiss you_.

“‘Dismiss,’ huh? You’re lucky that Zack’s right and I _do_ have a sense of humor, or I might have killed you for the cheek.”

Cloud never seemed to appear where he was wanted or expected. This time, he was perched on the back of one of Sephiroth’s couches, one leg crossed over the other, leaning back on his hands.

“So you can hear us while in the materia,” Sephiroth said, tone just a hair away from accusation.

“I can hear a lot of things.”

“Vagueness makes for a poor answer.”

“Then maybe you should start asking actual questions.”

Sephiroth had to bottle his temper. The god seemed to be directly aiming at getting under his skin, and he was infuriatingly good at it.

“Our first order of business is to figure out whether or not you want to be out all the time or not.”

Cloud looked faintly surprised.

“Oh? Last I heard, you were determined to pick for me.”

“I thought better of it.”

“Well, I’d like to know the truth of my options first. Tell me about this Science Department that worries you both.”

Zack and Sephiroth glanced at each other. Without a word, Zack stood, went to the front door, and checked down the hall. He came back and shrugged.

“It’s clear, unless you want to take the time to search for bugs.”

“We really ought to—well, Cloud. How about you pull your weight?”

Cloud’s eyebrows shot up at the same time Zack’s did. When Zack opened his mouth (either to protest or apologize on Sephiroth’s behalf, he still wasn’t sure), Cloud laughed brightly.

“Sure, what would you like me to do?” He said it in the patronizing voice of an adult humoring a child. It only got further under Sephiroth’s skin.

He pulled out his PHS and pressed it into Cloud’s palm.

“There are tiny devices that let others listen to us from a distance. They give off electricity, the same as that PHS. Can you… I don’t know, sense them?”

“Let’s find out,” Cloud said.

He closed his eyes, just barely longer than a blink, and then opened them. He passed the PHS back to Sephiroth and began wandering around the apartment, plucking bugs from their hiding places. He came back and held them out.

Sephiroth was caught between annoyance at the fact that they had bugged his apartment again so quickly and surprise that that had actually worked.

He had Cloud tip them into his hand, where he quickly made a fist, crushing them all. He went to the kitchen and dropped the scrap in the trash can before returning.

As he did so, Cloud called, “Will it be a problem that we said as much as we did before we found them?”

Zack shrugged, saying, “Not much to do about it now either way.”

Cloud hummed and tapped his foot in the air.

“Given some time and a chance to fiddle with some of your technology, I might be able to figure out how to get rid of it, but I suspect we don’t have that much time.”

“Likely not,” Sephiroth said as he returned. “I doubt they’re listening live, but I’m closely monitored.”

“You would be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That my one ride out of town _would_ come with complications. Strife, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean you can… I don’t know, mitigate it or something?” Zack asked, and Cloud laughed.

“Oh, Zack, I wish it did,” he said cryptically.

After a moment passed where it became clear he wasn’t going to elaborate any further, Sephiroth plunged on.

“Your explanation, then. The Science Department experiments on any and everything, with little moral compunction. This includes human experimentation, with no regard for the subject’s comfort or safety, often compromising their freedom.”

“So. They hold people captive and torture them in pursuit of science?”

“… More or less.”

Cloud rolled his eyes and shut them with a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And Shinra say the gods are backwards.”

“Don’t you accept human sacrifices?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never accepted human sacrifices. And besides, even those who do, it’s on a volunteer basis; no one’s strong armed into sacrificing themselves.”

“Wow, I did _not_ know that was actually a thing. That’s really a thing?” Zack said, thinking back to his little Gongogan goddess, wondering.

Cloud waved his hand dismissively.

“It fell out of fashion centuries ago, almost no one does it anymore.”

“So some still do it?”

“In some places, yes. A gift for a gift. The bigger the miracle, the bigger the sacrifice. Some places, where the climate is harsh and they scrape to get by, routinely ask for big things. They know the cost, and they ask anyway. No one’s forcing their hands.”

“ _Wow_ ,” Zack breathed.

Cloud just shrugged.

“Isn’t _Nibelheim_ a harsh climate? How do you protect them without accepting human sacrifice?” Sephiroth asked. He was deeply disturbed by the idea that he might be working with someone who followed the practice.

“I know how to balance things better. I don’t do large weather workings, for one; those cost a lot—changing the weather one place changes the weather everywhere, everything’s connected. But I do a lot of little miracles that make a difference; I just have them pay differently. Nibel folk make a lot of small payments. Offerings, shrines, prayer, general devotion. They all count, and they add up quickly. It takes more work from both me and the people to make it work out this way. In a lot of ways, it’s easier to make one big sacrifice and do one big miracle to help the people survive. I’d rather put in the effort and spare lives.”

Zack and Sephiroth relaxed a little bit with the answer. It was a comfort to know that Cloud, at least, didn’t condone the practice.

“We’re off topic,” Sephiroth said, refocusing the group. “The Science Department will be interested in you. They’ll want to know how you work, and how all Summons work, once they find out there’s more to it than what they know. They’ll hold you captive and force you to do their bidding. I can’t say what types of experiments they will do on you, only that they won’t be pleasant.”

Cloud blinked.

“Why would I come out for them at all?”

“… What?”

“You know that I don’t _have_ to answer the call, right? The gods always answer the summons because we’re all so tired of being in that cramped ball all the damn time. We want to stretch our legs, and if we help some humans while doing so, then.” Cloud shrugged.

“So you could just… not answer.”

“… Yeah.”

“Good to know we’ve been worrying for nothing,” Zack said with a sigh of actual relief.

“There’s _really_ no way to force you?” Sephiroth asked.

“Not that I know of.”

“What if they destroyed your materia when they thought it was broken?”

That wolf-grin spread wide over Cloud’s face.

“Is that something they might do?”

Zack and Sephiroth looked between each other.

“Maybe.”

“Then that makes my decision easy. I’ll risk it.”

They shared another glance.

“They might not,” Sephiroth added. “They might just keep you on a shelf where you collect dust for the rest of forever.”

Cloud shrugged, the sharp grin falling from his face.

“That’s no different than what I was looking at in that sword.”

They shared a final look, where Zack just shrugged. Sephiroth sighed in return.

“It’s your decision. You’re free to do what you’d like—you won’t return to the materia until I dismiss you.”

“I remember,” Cloud said, hopping down from the couch. “But I’ll need a little help, first.”

“What could a god possibly need help with?”

“Being snide will get you nowhere,” Cloud said blithely. “I don’t know this city. I need an outfit that I can wear without being obvious, since, judging by your clothes, this isn’t appropriate. And I need a tour.”

“A tour.”

“At least to show me how to get in and out of the building.”

“Why do you need that? Can’t you just… appear places?”

Cloud sighed heavily.

“Yes, but sometimes discretion is called for, and I need access to you if, for some reason, I need you to _dismiss_ me.”

Sephiroth didn’t quite manage to keep the smug look off his face at that.

“We can give you a tour, if you want.” At the sharp look Sephiroth gave him, he quickly corrected, “ _I_ will give you a tour. I will. Me.”

“You shouldn’t let him bully you that way, you know.”

“… He’s my boss.”

“I was under the impression that he’s also your friend. That sort of power imbalance being maintained in a casual environment is unhealthy.”

Zack paused, and then gave Sephiroth an evaluating look. He was given a sharp one in return. He put on a look of innocence.

“Maybe the god has a point. Maybe I’m converting.”

“Don’t flirt, Zack,” Cloud chided. When Zack looked at him in confusion, he shrugged, saying, “I’m a god. Talk about conversion like that is as close as we get to flirting.”

“Gods don’t… I don’t know, date each other?” Zack asked.

“It’s a little difficult to, now.”

“Now? Did they used to?”

“Oh, yes. Before materia, most gods were married to at least one other person. But materia changed things.”

“There was a time _before_ the Summon materia?”

“Of course there was.”

“I’m bringing him back here after we’ve toured around a little bit. I have questions,” Zack said to Sephiroth, who nodded.

“I do as well. But let him have his tour. Give him a SOLDIER Third uniform and tell the others he was just inducted on recommendation if they ask. We’ll go from there.

“Power imbalance, Sephiroth,” Zack scolded in a sing-song voice.

Sephiroth closed his eyes slowly and breathed out.

“Get out of my apartment.”

“Going,” Zack said quickly. He grabbed Cloud by the shoulder and began steering him toward the door.

Over his shoulder, Cloud called, “It really is unhealthy. You should reevaluate.”

“ _Later_ , Cloud,” Zack hissed on their way out the door.

Sephiroth followed them and snapped the door shut behind them.

He listened as their conversation faded down the hall and let out a deep sigh.

Somehow, he gained more questions than answers, as well as a brand new pain in his ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boy howdy, I sure did take a long time to update! sorry folks, hit a bit of writer's block, but it looks like I'm back!!
> 
> anyway, obligatory reminder that I uh, don't support human sacrifice? And have no real world understanding of it our how the cultures who did (do? idek) practice it did so. any mention of human sacrifice is purely for fiction, I made it up on the spot, it has no nonfictional application, etc., etc.


	5. Chapter 5

               The first struggle was getting Cloud his uniform. Not the requisition of it, no, that was simple enough: Zack brought them to the SOLDIER floor’s laundry and just asked for a Third’s uniform. No, surprisingly, the trouble was getting it _on_ Cloud. He had a great understanding of a great many things, but little practical skill with things like zippers and buckles. He spent the entire time that he was fumbling with them grumbling about how laces worked just fine and why did humans have to be so damnably innovative. As they were in a multi-stall bathroom and Zack was just waiting by the sinks, it wasn’t difficult for him to overhear, but very difficult for him to not laugh.

               The catastrophe of the uniform eventually handled, Zack began the tour of the building. He started with the SOLDIER floor, which came with its own set of complications. There were curious onlookers, who recognized their Lieutenant General but not the SOLDIER Third he was leading around. Most of them were deterred with a quick shake of his head, but more than once someone had to be told outright that details would be disclosed later. He wasn’t about to open up that conversation until they had a better story than “new SOLDIER Third from recommendation.” No, Cloud needed a backstory for when they would ask questions, they needed someone to have recommended him in the first place, the list went on. But it was something that could be settled later, and polite dismissal was enough to turn away the other SOLDIERs (for now).

               Before they left the SOLDIER floor, Zack swung them by the recruitment office to pick up a PHS for Cloud. He was well aware that Cloud could likely find and bother them at any given point in time, but he and Sephiroth would need a way to track the god down. The recruitment office was a little more difficult to turn away: they reasonably were confused about how there was a new recruit they hadn’t heard of. But pulling rank always worked, and he told them as politely as possible that they would be brought up to speed soon.

               Cloud took the PHS gingerly from Zack’s hand and opened his mouth to ask something, but Zack took him by the elbow and dragged him off. When they were somewhere reasonably private, Zack let go and faced Cloud’s look off utter bafflement.

               “You’re going to ask questions that anyone else would know the answer to, and I didn’t want there to be any more questions about you than there already are.”

               Cloud blinked, then shrugged. It was a fair point.

               “Am I free to speak now, then?” he said, with a hint of attitude that would have concerned Zack, had it not come with a glint of mirth in his eyes.

               Zack sighed but said, “Yes.”

               “What is this thing for? I’ve seen people speaking into ones like it and tapping at it, but I could never quite figure it out. I can’t read screens.”

               Zack blinked.

               He opened the PHS and held it out to Cloud, saying, “You can’t read this?”

               “Oh!” Cloud said, taking it gently and holding it closer to his face. “I can read it like this. It must be something about magic that does it. They always just glowed white for me before.”

               “Well, at least you can see it now,” Zack said.

               Zack went to stand by Cloud’s shoulder and walked him through the basics, through calls and texts and emails and the internet. He got the distinct feeling Cloud would be on it for hours until he figured out every last little function, and the enthusiasm was oddly endearing.

               From there, Zack led him through the rest of the building—or at least the rest of the relevant areas. They stopped by the armory, the VR rooms, the gyms, sparring rooms. The cafeteria was likely unnecessary but still something he should know. Zack and Sephiroth’s offices (not that Zack was ever in his), along with the SOLDIER barracks, and the location of the elevators, staircases, and most convenient exits.

               With the tour concluded (despite the way that Cloud could have spent hours investigating every nook and cranny—he was used to complete familiarity with his surroundings), Zack led them back upstairs to Sephiroth’s apartment, swinging by Zack’s briefly so Cloud knew where it was. He knocked twice quickly and entered without waiting for an answer, which Cloud thought Sephiroth would take issue with, but apparently it was old hat between them. Sephiroth was seated on a couch with the coffee table pulled close, scrawling across documents when they entered.

               “Good, I’m almost done his recruitment paperwork.”

               “How?” Zack asked, coming to stand in front of Sephiroth with his hands on his hips. “He doesn’t have any identification.”

               “Cloud, do the people of Nibelheim have identification paperwork?”

               As they spoke, Cloud had stepped on the arm of the large, very square, leather chair—which should have toppled it, but it stayed strangely balanced—and sat himself on the back of the chair. He seemed to like perching, and Zack watched with obvious amusement as Sephiroth’s brow twitched in irritation at the boots now on his chair. Cloud was either oblivious to the issue or didn’t care, and either was a distinct possibility.

               “There’s a town registry for births, deaths, and marriages respectively, but no one’s ever needed their own individual ones before.”

               “See?” Sephiroth said, turning back to couch and pointedly away from the shoes on his clean leather. “I put that he was from Nibelheim. If anyone asks, we’ll explain that he doesn’t have them and why. It will check out.”

               Zack hummed and folded his arms over his chest. He tapped his foot a few times and then shrugged, dropping his arms.

               “Good enough.”

               “Now,” Sephiroth said, setting aside the paperwork and his pen down. He turned to Cloud and folded his hands. “You’ve had your tour. Your paperwork just has to be submitted. You are, for all intents and purposes, a SOLDIER, though I’m not sure what you intend to do with that opportunity. It’s time to answer our questions.”

               Cloud shrugged and crossed his ankle over his knee.

               “Anything you’d like.”

               “Let’s start there. What _are_ you going to do now?”

               “Explore the city. Figure out _touchscreens_ , and electronics in general. Talk to the people here, see how different they are. I don’t have a _goal_ , if that’s what you’re asking. This is about the experience.”

               “How will that involve SOLDIER?”

               “I’ll play along with it. The program gives me access to technology and people, which are the two things I’m most curious about. I’m not against doing some service to earn that. A gift for a gift.”

               “Then after this, you and I go spar.”

               “What?” Zack cut in. “Is that safe?”

               “Who are you concerned for, me or him?” Cloud said with a grin.

               “Either? Both?”

               Sephiroth sighed and said, “I’ll go easy on him.”

               Cloud blinked and then laughed brightly.

               “You know I’m always shown with my sword for a reason, right? And that Strife is _literally_ my name?”

               Speaking to and looking at Zack, Sephiroth said, “Like I said, I’ll go easy on him.”

               Zack glanced pointedly at Cloud, whose grin took on an almost feral edge.

               “Ask your questions, then. I haven’t had a good fight in a long, long time.”

               “So you’re out of practice, as well,” Sephiroth said with a sigh.

               “ _Anyway_ ,” Zack interrupted, before Cloud could get to that comment. “We want to know how the whole god thing works.”

               “That’s a broad topic. Narrow it down.”

               “You didn’t seem disturbed when I mentioned that the Science Department might break your materia. What would happen if they did?” Sephiroth asked.

               “I’d be freed.”

               “Freed?”

               “The materia is like a prison. Gods, like humans, have multiple bodies. A spiritual and a physical one. The spiritual body can go anywhere—it’s not restrained by the materia. That’s how I was able to keep an eye on the town and do my work. The physical is kept in the materia. So everything has to be done through magic, no sense of touch, or really any senses at all. Sight and sound and smell come through with the spiritual body, but it’s muffled. Muddy. Not anything like actual living.”

               “Is there, like, a world, inside the materia?” Zack asked. “Rooms or fields or something?”

               “No,” Cloud said flatly. “It’s a cell. It holds you in place, and that’s all.”

               “On the inside, then, it’s only the size of your body?”

               “Yes.”

               Zack and Sephiroth glanced between one another. Cloud snorted and waved one hand, leaning on the other.

               “Spare me your pity,” Cloud said. “I don’t need it.”

               Zack opened his mouth to apologize, but Sephiroth cut him off.

               “How did you end up in the materia?”

               Cloud sighed, leaning back on both his hands.

               “So, you’re aware that there are multiple pantheons of gods, yes?”

               “We’ve travelled plenty, we’re aware.”

               “They’re all real. All the various worlds from their cosmologies are real. None is any truer than another.”

               Zack’s face softened, thinking back to his little Gongogan goddess. Sephiroth’s pinched, the entire idea upsetting his worldview.

               “One pantheon is not stronger than another,” Cloud continued. “There are gods within each that are stronger, kings and queens and leaders. But overall, the power of a god comes from worship. The more worship, the stronger the god. So, those with a very wide following tend to be stronger. Those of us from little towns don’t fare as well. A long, long time ago, there was a pantheon that spanned the entire Eastern Continent. The Ancients were a very unified people, who worshipped the Planet herself, Gaia. But the harmony on the Eastern Continent didn’t impact the Western, or Wutai. There was constant infighting. A lot of war.

               “Now, Gaia’s very maternal. She didn’t like seeing us all squabble. She tried over and over again to bring peace, but a lot of people found her to be a threat, thinking that she was trying to take over the West as she had the East and that we’d all fade away into nothing. Eventually, she grew desperate. She created materia from her own body, the Lifestream, and thought that it might be a solution. She began trapping us inside, picking us off one by one. It took time for us to figure out how to extend our spiritual bodies with the physical trapped, so there was no communication from anyone who got trapped. No one knew what it was like inside until they _were_ inside, and she was so strong that none of us stood a chance, not even united. She thought she was doing the best thing, both for us and for humanity. We’ve tried to find her since, to tell her what it’s like and try to get her to remove it, but she’s hiding from us. She’s too busy here on the physical world to spend time in the spiritual world, where we might be able to reach her. She’s our only way out, unless humans start breaking the materia, which they won’t—we’re too useful. So, for the foreseeable future, we’re stuck.”

               There was a long pause before Cloud sighed in frustration and said, “What did I say about pity?”

               “Sorry,” Zack muttered.

               Sephiroth didn’t address it, refusing to admit that he might have been pitying at all, instead saying, “Why don’t you go find Gaia?”

               “… Excuse me?”

               “You’re here, physically. That was the issue before, wasn’t it? That you weren’t physical, so you couldn’t reach her?”

               “… Yes.”

               “Then, why don’t you go find her? Tell her what’s going on.”

               “… Sephiroth.”

               “Yes?”

               “Are you telling me to release the gods?”

               Sephiroth scowled. He hated to think that the gods were real, much less that he was helping them, but Cloud wasn’t wrong.

               “I’m telling you to take initiative and fix your situation instead of taking this as a pleasure cruise.”

               Cloud paused, looking him over closely. After a long, long while, he said, “I’ll think about it.”

               Sephiroth shrugged and stood, saying, “It’s your decision in the end. Now, let’s go, we’re going to spar.”

               Cloud raised his eyebrows, looking up at Sephiroth.

               “I thought you had more questions?”

               “One sob story is enough for today. I’d rather hit you.”

               Cloud blinked, and then laughed. He hopped down from the chair and gestured to the side.

               “Lead the way.”


	6. Chapter 6

               On his way out the door, Sephiroth had grabbed Masamune off its spot on the wall while Cloud looked at the blade with interest, which was pointedly ignored. What was even more pointed was the silence of the walk. Sephiroth, frustrated over his unintentional assistance to the gods despite not knowing all there was to know about them, wasn’t interested in conversation. Cloud was content in silence; there had been a lot of time to get used to it stuck in that statue’s sword, and thought it was entertaining to watch Zack be so clearly uncomfortable with it. Cloud caught him opening his mouth and reluctantly shutting it more than once from the corner of his eye, as Zack watched both him and Sephiroth carefully. He seemed unwilling to break the silence if Cloud and Sephiroth were determined to keep it, likely as some odd sort of showing respect.

               It lasted until they entered what was apparently the sparring room, despite it being just an empty box with a window next to the door.

               “I was expecting padding of some kind. Humans bruise so easily,” Cloud said, looking around the room as he walked further inside. He began stretching his arms and shoulders as he looked.

               “SOLDIERs are a little less fragile.”

               Cloud scoffed, saying, “No amount of training will change biology.”

               Zack quickly muffled a laugh. Cloud turned and raised an eyebrow.

               “You don’t know much about the SOLDIER program, do you?” Sephiroth asked, stretching out the way Cloud was.

               “Not the details. It’s some sort of elite group of, well, soldiers, isn’t it?”

               “There’s quite a bit of training involved, yes, but the calling card of a SOLDIER is enhancement.”

               Cloud narrowed his eyes.

               “Enhancing what?”

               “Everything, down to the way our eyes glow.”

               “How do they _do_ that?”

               “The enhancements are done primarily through mako injections.”

               Cloud blinked. He blinked again. He ran a hand over his face.

               “You humans _love_ to play with fire.”

               The corner of Sephiroth’s mouth twitched down.

               “What does that mean?”

               “Mako is drawn from the Lifestream, and the Lifestream is Gaia’s blood. Of course it would enhance you; it’s got a spark of divinity in it. But divinity, even just a spark, and humanity just don’t mix well. The children of gods and mortals, the demigods, always either have a lot of problems or _are_ a problem. Long term, it’s going to be an issue for you.”

               Zack and Sephiroth looked at each other. Zack looked more than a little nervous.

               “You can’t be sure of that.”

               Cloud barked a laugh and said, “I’ve known enough demigods to be _pretty_ sure. But this, I’ve never seen before. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’ll be lucky. But you don’t know any more than I do, since I’m relatively certain no one’s done enhancements like these before. I doubt Shinra is concerned with it—they expect you to either die in battle or fade into uselessness when no longer needed, at which point they won’t much care what happens to you.”

               “Are you always this blunt?”

               “Not with children. And you two are decidedly adults. Why, did you need me to sugar coat things for you?”

               Zack thought, _Yes_ , silently to himself.

               Sephiroth snorted and drew his blade.

               “Are you done stretching? I want to hit you now.”

               Cloud shrugged and pulled his sword from thin air. “Sure. This will be more interesting now that I can be a little less worried about breaking you.”

               Sephiroth, as a general rule, liked to wait for his opponent to make the first strike. He wasn’t intimidated per se, but willing to make the concession that perhaps he could use the help going against a god of _strife_ of all things.

               He drew his blade up by his ear in a ready position, waited for Cloud to settle in, his over-large, curious looking blade in front of him. He charged forward, testing the waters with a simple, direct strike. Cloud only twitched his sword, guiding the strike away. There was no mocking look, nothing smug to shame him for the obvious blow. Cloud was calm and serious in a way he hadn’t been so far.

               Sephiroth caught himself with his left foot, pivoted and swung the blade in a wide arc. Still an easy blow to block, and again, Cloud’s sword barely seemed to move. This time, Sephiroth followed a feint with his blade with an elbow toward Cloud’s ribs. Both were pushed aside almost gently, despite the weight of the blows.

               The pace began to speed up, turning into a lightning-quick dance. Strike after strike after strike were turned away simply. There was no flair, no showmanship about how Cloud fought. He didn’t fight to impress, he fought to win, as simple as that. Sephiroth knew many, many SOLDIERs who showed off when they fought, and he occasionally had to fight down the urge to do the same, but he was well aware of the virtues of not wasting any movement.

               Zack, watching the spectacular fight, glanced back at the window. He drew the blinds.

               It was just in time, too, because Cloud leapt into the air to avoid a low strike, and when he sailed higher than expected, Sephiroth simply followed. They began using the floor, ceiling, and walls as springboards, ricocheting around the room at an alarming rate. Enhanced as Zack was, he was having a hard time following it. He was distinctly glad _he_ wasn’t the one who had thrown down this particular gauntlet.

               When there was a sudden stillness, Zack caught up to the motion. It was only to find Sephiroth with one hand and one knee on the ground, chin tilted up by the way the tip of Cloud’s blade touched his throat. They both looked at the god and found something strange, something chilling about him. This was not the person they had come to know. There was a hardness to him, despite the way every line of his body seemed loose. There was something sharp enough to cut in his eyes, an intense focus around him. The air seemed to grow cold, emanating from him. It was like he pulled all of his attention to the fight, even the attention that was usually locked into Nibelheim. The complete focus of a _god_ wasn’t something comfortable or even desirable, and even Sephiroth, calm as he ever was, was beginning to sweat under the pressure radiating from his opponent.

               And then, as if it had never been, the intensity about Cloud vanished. He grinned, light and easy, and let his sword drop. Before it hit the ground, it disappeared. He held out his hand as a peace offering.

               “Good fight.”

               Sephiroth looked at his hand longer than he should have, trying to decide whether to take it or not. Though he wasn’t entirely sure why, he decided to accept it, and let Cloud help haul him back to standing.

               “No mocking about human capabilities? No gloating?”

               Cloud snorted, but the grin was still on his lips.

               “You might find this hard to believe, Sephiroth, but I’m not an asshole.”

               Zack didn’t think he would ever get used to hearing a god swear.

               “You could have fooled me.”

               “Kind-hearted as ever, aren’t you.”

               “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

               “In war, where else?”

               “The gods have _wars?_ ” Zack asked.

               “Oh, yes, plenty. Inter- and intra-pantheon.”

               “Were they very common?” Sephiroth asked.

               “At times. No one can stay at war forever, but we made a damn good go at it sometimes.”

               “What do gods have to fight over? Surely not land.”

               “No, faith. Converts. Hunting grounds, if you will.”

               Sephiroth’s eyebrows shot up, and Zack whispered, “Wow.”

               Cloud just shrugged and said, “That’s how some people look at it.”

               “Why is that something worth going to war over? Out of some sense of ego?”

               “For some. Mainly, though, it’s because we need worship to thrive. To live, if it comes down to it. When a faith is lost, the gods die. As it tapers off, so too do the gods.”

               “So it’s about survival.”

               “For some. A lot of the time it was out of greed. People being power-hungry. They could get by just fine with things as they were, but they wanted to be stronger, so they fought for the right to convert people.”

               “You can’t just _force_ someone to convert, though,” Zack said, a wrinkle between his brows.

               “What you _can_ do is hand them a miracle and make it very clear who it comes from. That usually does the trick.”

               Zack rubbed at his forehead. Sephiroth scowled, not pleased with the idea of nearly-forced conversion.

               “Wouldn’t a pantheon risk being entirely wiped out in war?”

               “You ought to know what lengths people will go to for greed. Shinra’s a shining example of it.”

               Sephiroth was entirely glad that there were only cameras, not mics in the sparring rooms.

               Both Zack and Sephiroth conceded the point with a shrug.

               “Were you a foot soldier?” Sephiroth asked instead.

               “At first. But my name is _Strife_. I do well in war. They promoted me quickly.

               “Who promoted you? I thought you were the only god in Nibelheim.”

               “I am now. There was a falling out, the others moved somewhere on the Northern Continent, last I heard.”

               “Falling out?”

               Cloud sighed. He didn’t particularly want to get into it, but he promised them answers, and he was a man of his word.

               “A long, long time ago, a war came to Nibelheim. While my people are tough, they aren’t warriors. We saw the approaching invaders and had to decide what to do about it. The others wanted to stay out of it; they said it wasn’t our business to meddle so closely with humans, and we had to let the cards fall where they would. I disagreed. Vehemently. There was no way they would survive. The town would be razed to the ground. The victors might settle and we could convert them to keep ourselves alive, and I think that’s why they were willing to stand on some strange moral principle about the rules. I went down and I stopped it. When the town saw what I did and what the others very distinctly did _not_ do, they stopped worshipping the others. So, in interest of self-preservation, they left. It’s been just me ever since.”

               “Hold on,” Zack said, holding up a hand. “Are you saying you stopped an entire _war_ on your own?”

               Cloud blinked.

               “Yes.”

               Zack and Sephiroth exchanged a look. Both of them were wondering just how much exactly Cloud had been holding back in that spar.

               “How?” Sephiroth asked.

               “A few miracles here and there for crowd control, but most humans are pretty easy to mow down. I would have had a harder time had they been SOLDIERs, but they weren’t.”

               Sephiroth and Zack were both equally disturbed at the implication that he could still mow down an army of SOLDIERs.

               “Miracles?”

               “Avalanches, pits opening up, that sort of thing.”

               “Wow,” Zack whispered again.

               Cloud, as he tended to, just shrugged.

               “I’m going to go back to my office,” Sephiroth announced, having had enough of the conversation. “I still have work to get done.”

               “You always have work to get done,” Zack countered.

               “So do you. The difference is that I do it.”

               “I do work. Just not paperwork.”

               “Working out doesn’t count.”

               “We’re SOLDIERs, Sephiroth, of course it counts. I’m gonna go do that, actually. Do you wanna come, Cloud?”

               The god shook his head and said, “I’d rather not. I don’t need to the way humans do.”

               “Of course,” Zack sighed. “What will you do while we’re off, then?”

               “Wander the city, probably. I need to explore sooner or later.”

               “Good luck, then!” Zack said. He raised his hand to wave and followed Sephiroth out of the room, who gave no actual goodbye.

               Cloud smiled and waved back to Zack until they were out of the room, the door swinging shut behind them. His face slowly fell. Cloud summoned his sword and looked at it, running one hand over the blade. It had been a long time since he fought just for the pleasure of it. A _long_ time. He remembered with a nearly overwhelming nostalgia all the spars he had with Tifa—the goddess of the old pantheon, whom Sebastian’s daughter was named after. He remembered when they were young, all the times she knocked him flat on his ass. He remembered when they were older, and he still got knocked flat on his ass, though he did the same to her much more often then. She was the only one who was ever able to really keep up with him, to give him a run for his money and make him follow up his brash words with actions. She tempered him, when he was still young enough to need that, hot-headed and irresponsible in a way he couldn’t afford to be after the pantheon left. She was always by his side, even though she had to reel him in as often as not, always ready to hit him over the head to make him see sense. They had been the best of friends, close enough that people kept asking why they weren’t together. She had been his better half, once upon a time.

               He hoped she was doing alright.


	7. Chapter 7

               Midgar, decidedly, did not suit Cloud.

               He was used to the crisp, clear mountain air. He was _not_ used to mako, especially the way it seemed to cling to the air and the buildings and essentially _everything_ here. There was a faint tinge of green over the city that lingered no matter how hard the wind blew. He could tell from all the lights and neon that there would be light poisoning at night, that between that and the smog and the mako you’d never see the stars. The people seemed happy enough, and people were people no matter where you went, but the construction of the city, the monolith itself disturbed him.

               What disturbed him the most was when he heard someone whispering about slums.

               Humans would never learn. Why, _why_ did they always have to grind each other under their heels?

               Cloud was determined to find the slums. He had no human’s usual care for safety, either for himself or his belongings (seeing as he had none other than a sword that appeared and disappeared at his command and a replaceable PHS), so there was nothing to fear about wandering there by himself. Besides, he had a trick or two up his sleeve.

               He hadn’t been happy to hear about the slums in general. He’d been even less pleased to hear that they were buried below ground. That was also very like humans, to hide away what they didn’t want to see. Out of sight, out of mind, after all. But he couldn’t help but think about the endless night it must be down there. No sun to set your rhythm by. Was there such a thing as a diurnal/nocturnal split there, or were people just up whenever they wanted to be? How did they count the days? He didn’t even want to think about what the mako and smog would do to the air down there.

               Still, he boarded the train. He was given a wide berth throughout the city, but especially on the train. He could only guess it was the uniform. Humans loved to crowd close to him, drawn by the spark of divinity, pulled in as if by magnet. He liked humans, was fond of them, and enjoyed doting on them, so he had little problem with the crowding. It was an excuse to pass out gifts and little miracles in a way that had always irritated the other gods, as if he was showing off instead of taking simple joy in the way the humans’ faces lit up at the smallest trifle. He found that, with the wide area around him, he was missing the contact. This was not the same as Nibelheim.

               With the exception of his fight with Sephiroth, which had proven to be more difficult than he expected, almost alarmingly so (why did humans always have to play with fire?), he kept his focus split. It was a small thing for a god to be fully cognizant and aware of multiple things at the same time. It was how he kept an eye on Nibelheim now, and the only reason his longing for home was not bitingly fierce.

               He was tempted to draw more of his attention toward home while on the train, but the weight of the strange little device in his pocket drew him. If this was to be, as Sephiroth called it, a “pleasure cruise,” then there was little harm in indulging. He would never admit it, but part of that comment had stung. He was not a selfish man. He gave everything for his people. He wouldn’t have considered leaving at all if he couldn’t still do his job from a distance. But he had been so wrapped up in the little village, so absorbed, that he knew it was unhealthy. Something like guilt gnawed away at him from the second he asked Sephiroth and Zack to take him, and it had yet to fully fade. But it was about time for him to take a page from the other gods’ books. He deserved a break. Even humans took vacations. He reminded himself of this as he spent the ride below plate tapping away at the device, trying to figure out all of the functions. He thought he had made good progress when a man in uniform approached him.

               “ID and ticket to ride, sir?”

               Cloud blinked up at him. More than one person was watching. He didn’t want to resolve this in a way that would end up with the man in trouble, or worse, fired. So instead, he reached in his pocket, pulling out a stiff plastic card like the one he had seen Zack use to acquire his uniform, and a slip of paper, both of which materializing between his fingertips. Both were blank, but as he passed them over, he let his fingers brush the man’s. It was a small thing to trick his mind into seeing what he needed to. The man looked over the card, punched a hole in the “ticket,” and handed them both back to Cloud before moving on.

               When the train pulled to a stop, Cloud filed from it with the rest of the crowd. He looked around, taking in the Sector Five slums. He had been right about the air—it was humid, and sweet-smelling with the tang of mako. There was a layer of grit on everything, dirty as slums tended to be, that lingered in the air and was kicked up when the train took off again, creating the only breeze to be seen underground like this.

               And so, he took off wandering. What he saw did not make him happy. Children playing, yes, but dirty and too thin. Teenagers huddled in corners, trying to look tough and beyond their years. Adults with shifty eyes that saw and had seen too much. It broke Cloud’s heart. He knew there was no god watching out for these people, not really, not the way he did his own. There was Gaia’s distant benevolence, maybe, but she never truly interfered, not unless it was dire. She didn’t protect her people the way he felt was right. She offered them her blood for their convenience, and he supposed that was taking care of them after a fashion, but it had to be draining her. He’d think that maybe that was why she did so little, if only she hadn’t always been this way.

               The frown on his face grew as he walked, as his hand batted away pickpockets that would find him empty of goods anyway. He was beginning to consider intervening in the fate of these people himself, and that was a dangerous line of thought. He was dedicated to Nibelheim. His people offered him so much. It would be unworthy of them, disrespectful to them to take the power their belief granted for the sake of others.

               But then, he thought, the hardy mountain people might understand that this was a good cause. They knew a thing or two about struggling to survive.

               But then, they were an insulated lot, caring little for outsiders.

               A very dangerous line of thought.

               He was planning on heading back up to the plate, to find Zack or Sephiroth and pester them until he had enough distance from the misery here to think straight, when he was distracted by a church. It was the first one he had seen here, and it was an odd thing to find at all. Midgar’s folk weren’t particularly religious. They had no god other than Shinra. He turned and made for it, if only to find out who it was dedicated to.

               He entered the building, pushing the door open gently, not out of reverence but out of a respect for another’s domain. He looked around the building as he entered, searching for iconography, for statues, for images in the stained glass. Instead, he found a hole in the roof and a little patch of flowers.

               Ah. Gaia, then.

               He approached the flowers and knelt, cradling one in hand. He never had much of a green thumb, or any sort of talent for making things grow. He was a protector, sure, and he provided for his people, but he sent them the challenge of Nibel wolves when they were hungry. He was a god of blood more than a god of the earth. The name Strife would haunt him forever. It had been Vincent that had given him that name. He remembered it clearly, standing there blood-soaked but victorious after a battle, both high on his win and torn to shreds by the violence in a way that the others had told him he’d grow out of, but never seemed to.

               He’d looked him up and down and, face blank, said, “We ought to call you Strife.”

               Cloud had never been sure if he had seen amusement in his eyes, the sarcastic twinkle of teasing that Vincent sometimes had buried in his poker face, or an infinite sadness. He thought, maybe, that it had been both.

               Even lost in memories as he was, he did not miss the approaching footsteps.

               “Who are you?”

               There was something like trepidation in that voice, and that was what made Cloud look up, a pinch in his brow. He was a gallows god, but he was fearsome only to his enemies. He was soft when he was allowed to be—a trait of his first name, this time, as Tifa had said so many years ago.

               The young woman, dressed in pink, was looking at him with a mixture of awe and dread.

               Cloud climbed to his feet slowly as to not startle, brushing away the dirt from his knees and his hands before looking at her, doing his best to soften everything about him.

               “I’m no one to be afraid of.”

               “I’m not so sure of that.”

               The smile that quirked at his lips was bitter.

               “You, I am not here to hurt.”

               “Who are you here to hurt, then?”

               “No one, not this time. Not here. This city sees enough sadness of its own accord; it doesn’t need me to make things worse.”

               This seemed to placate the girl some. She lost some of the tension in her shoulders, but there was still a wariness about her. She glanced around the church, making sure they were alone.

               “What are you? The Planet doesn’t know what to make of you being here.”

               A look of understanding passed Cloud’s face.

               “Ah, you’re one of the Cetra, then.”

               The girl looked at him in surprise.

               “How do you know that word?”

               “I know a lot of things.”

               She hesitated only a moment before rallying, pressing, “What are you?”

               “I’m a—summon. My materia’s active right now, I’ve been given leave to wander.”

               “You’re a _god?_ ”

               Now that was surprising. It wasn’t common knowledge that the summons were literal gods, bound to the cold little orbs. Gaia had loose lips.

               “Yes. Does that frighten you?”

               She paused, seeming to consider.

               “No, I don’t think it does. Gaia seems to know you. Have you two met?”

               “Many, many years ago. Do you speak to Gaia often?”

               She looked a little uncomfortable. Not used to talking about it, then.

               “I’ve started to talk to her more, lately. Or she’s been talking to me, at least. She’s been saying something was coming, but I’m guessing that’s you.”

               Cloud snorted.

               “Whatever Gaia has told you, let her know that she has nothing to fear from me.” He paused for a long moment, one in which the silence only lasted because the look of consideration on his face gave the girl pause. “Only, if you speak to her soon, let her know I’d like a word.”

               Her brow furrowed.

               “What do you want with her?”

               “A favor. I don’t think she’ll grant it, but I think it would haunt me if I didn’t at least try.”

               She looked over him again, evaluating. She clearly wasn’t sure of what to make of that, but eventually seemed content to let it go.

               “What’s your name?”

               “Cloud Strife.”

               “Wow, what a name!” she said, cracking the first smile he’d seen so far. It seemed to change not only her face, but the atmosphere. Whatever test she’d been putting him through, it seemed he passed. He grinned back at her.

               “What’s yours, then?”

               “Aeris Gainsborough.”

               “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

               He never could help doting on humans.

               She laughed and looked almost impish when she said, “I have a boyfriend, you know.”

               Cloud shrugged, but the smile still played at the corner of his lips.

               “Doesn’t stop you from being pretty. Besides, I think I’m a little old for you.”

               She laughed again, the sound bright as the flowers between them. He almost didn’t hear the trill of his PHS over it, but she fell silent quickly enough at the new noise.

               “You should get that.”

               He looked almost sheepish as he pulled the device from his pocket.

               “Damned new technology,” he grumbled quiet, earning him a snort of laughter, before he managed to pick up the PHS.

               “Hello?” Cloud asked, holding the PHS up to his ear.

               “Cloud, where are you?”

               “Below the plate, why?”

               “… What are you doing down there?”

               “Minding my own business, you should try it.”

               He could hear the huff over the line.

               “I need you to come back to the building. We have a problem.”

               “What’s that?”

               “Someone found the footage of our spar. You’re being asked for.”

               “So?”

               “ _So_ your cover is blown. Today is likely your last day of freedom. I hope you enjoyed it.”

               “I need to take care of something here, first.”

               “No, you need to be here. Come as quick as possible.”

               “Oh Hel,” Cloud breathed into the PHS.

               There was a feeling like a hook in his navel. He had enough time for a brief wave and a bitter upturn of the lips before he was pulled through space, teleporting to where Sephiroth was.

               Sephiroth looked up at him in something that would have been alarm on anyone else before his expression settled, lowering the PHS from his ear.

               “You’re not doing much to help your cover, pulling stunts like that.”

               Cloud snapped the PHS shut, scowling.

               “Be more careful with how you phrase things then. Orders are orders. Now that I’ve accepted your conditions and come out of the materia, I’m obligated to follow commands until the spell has been stopped.”

               “I thought you could choose to follow or not.”

               “I can choose to answer the call or ignore it. Once I’ve answered, I’m bound. You give an order, I follow it. That’s how this works.”

               “I will have to be more careful with my speech, then. I wish you had told me sooner.”

               “I didn’t think it needed explaining.”

               Cloud walked around the chair before dropping into it. Sephiroth finally put his PHS away.

               “What’s the big deal, then?” Cloud said. “I doubt anyone in Shinra wants to convert.”

               “No, they don’t know you’re a god. They just know that you beat _me_ , the pinnacle of Shinra’s achievement—”

               “Wow, did they never teach you humility?”

               Sephiroth frowned but continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

               “—in a fight. I’m supposed to be the best there is. They wouldn’t tell me specifics of what they want, but I expect you’ll be inducted into SOLDIER. They’ll want to know how you seem to be enhanced without the mako glow to your eyes.”

               “Okay, I’ll have to think of an excuse. How long do I have?”

               Sephiroth stood from his desk.

               “You have until we reach the meeting room.”

               “… Fuck.”

               “Indeed.”


	8. Chapter 8

               “You have no idea what you’re going to say, do you.”

               “Nope. No clue. You got any ideas?”

               “I wish I could say that I did. I suppose you could tell them the truth.”

               “Sephiroth, that is the dumbest thing you have ever said to me.”

               “… I suppose it’s not my brightest idea.”

               “You could say that again.”

               Cloud and Sephiroth walked side by side. Sephiroth usually took advantage of his long legs and almost never walked anything less than briskly. He’d shortened his stride for the sake of Cloud’s significantly shorter legs, but his pace was far from brisk. He would never admit it, but they were both dragging their feet. They were stalling. They were stalling, and they didn’t even have anything to show for it.

               “What if you fell in a mako pool? There are bound to be some in a reactor town like Nibelheim.”       

               “My eyes don’t glow, Sephiroth.”

               “You’re a god. Can’t you fix that?”

               Cloud frowned and did a little internal tweaking. He turned to look at Sephiroth.

               “Like that?”

               His eyes were like street lights. Sephiroth shook his head.

               “Tone it down. More. More. More. There, that’s it.”

               “So, mako pool. That could work. I can’t say I know much about enhancements. That’ll be a good enough cover story?”

               “To the best of my knowledge. There is more that goes into SOLDIER enhancements, but the minutiae of the process is classified.”

               “It’ll have to do.”

               “Good, because we’re out of time.”

               Sephiroth nodded to the end of the hall, where two Turks stood flanking the door to the President’s Office.

               “This is it?”

               “Yes. And I suggest you keep anything sensitive to yourself from here on out.”

               “Thanks for the warning.”

               They approached the door at the same sedate pace they had been using for the rest of their walk. The bright-haired Turk on the right tapped the rod in his hand against the toe of his shined shoe in something like impatience, if impatience could be lazy.

               “Reno. Rude,” Sephiroth greeted, pulling them to a stop in front of the door. “We were called by the President.”

               “This him, then? Wonder boy?” Reno asked, looking Cloud over.

               Cloud, who had dealt with humans for too many years to be offended, just quirked a brow with a look of amusement. As if he was dealing with a child. It seemed to rankle the red-head, who sniffed and thumbed his nose. He jerked his head toward the door.

               Sephiroth did not acknowledge the Turks any further, just breezed past and through the door. They entered to see President Shinra seated at his desk, with Professor Hojo and Heidegger at his side.

               “Is this the one, then?”

               Sephiroth stopped in front of the desk and snapped into a sharp salute.

               “Yes, sir.”

               “He bested you in combat?”

               “Yes, sir, he did.”

               “I take it you weren’t just going easy on him.”

               “No, sir.”

               President Shinra turned his eyes to Cloud, who was standing ostensibly not in a salute and not at attention. He stood with absolute ease and confidence and without a scrap of the deference that President Shinra was used to. The man narrowed his eyes.

               “Who are you?”

               “My name is Cloud Strife.”

               “Cloud Strife. Where did you come from?”

               “Nibelheim.”

               “The reactor town in the mountains on the Western Continent?”

               “That’s the one.”

               President Shinra seemed to not know what to make of Cloud’s attitude toward him. He was overly casual in a way that he hadn’t experienced in many years. It was novel, and as near to amusing as it was offensive.

               “Your eyes glow like a SOLDIERs. How did that happen?”

               “Fell in a mako pool a while back. Been like this ever since.”

               President Shinra glanced at Hojo, who cleared his throat.

               “That level of mako in the system should have had other side effects. Did you not have mako poisoning? Mako addiction?”

               “I got this far.”

               “With no help?”

               “I managed.”

               “Clearly,” Hojo sniffed. He made eye contact with the President and nodded briefly.

               “We would like to make you an offer. A rather impressive one.”

               Cloud fought to keep his expression schooled. He wanted to roll his eyes, but he got the feeling that wouldn’t be appreciated.

               “I’m listening.”

               President Shinra looked unimpressed.

               “We would like to offer you a position in our SOLDIER program. You will start as a Third Class, but with your talent, I doubt you will remain there very long. It would be a waste of your skill. I suspect you’ll rise through the ranks almost as quickly as Sephiroth did.”

               “I…” Sephiroth cleared his throat. Cloud frowned but continued, “I accept.”

               “Good. You’ll have an examination with the Professor to clear you. Assuming that goes well, Sephiroth will oversee getting you settled in, as you’re already familiar with one another. Professor, if you wouldn’t mind.”

               “Of course, President.”

               Hojo stepped from behind the desk and left the room, expecting Cloud and Sephiroth to follow. Sephiroth shot off a salute but left without explicit dismissal, something he got away with by pure virtue of being Sephiroth. Cloud followed without saluting.

               “Sephiroth?”

               Sephiroth came to a stop, letting Cloud pass him.

               “Yes, sir?”

               “Teach him about protocol.”

               “… Yes, sir.”

               Cloud felt Sephiroth’s hand between his shoulder blades, pushing him forward.

               “You make so much trouble,” Sephiroth hissed.

               “Keep up,” Hojo snapped.

               Cloud sighed.

               The trio wound their way through the Tower, down into the bowels of it, into the sterile white of Hojo’s labs. Something about Sephiroth was off. He was closed off, cold—not that he wasn’t those things normally. But it was different now, extreme. Cloud found he didn’t like it.

               Hojo led them into an examination room, gesturing absently to a padded table. Cloud glanced at Sephiroth, who nodded sharply. He hopped onto the table.

               Hojo proceeded to do a basic physical, peppering Cloud with questions about his health. He took his vitals and made notes, commenting to himself absently. He went on and on about strange readings, and things not being quite right, and how was he alive right now? Sephiroth kept glancing at Cloud with each remark, but Cloud just kept his face blank.

               Eventually, Hojo finished scribbling his notes, saying, “And I’ll need a blood sample.”

               “No.”

               “What?” Hojo said sharply, looking up. Cloud looked down at him impassively.

               “I said no.”

               “It’s required.”

               “I don’t care.”

               “You don’t have a choice.”

               “What are you gonna do, hold me down?” Cloud said, tone derisive. He could see the angry red crawling up Hojo’s neck.

               “Sephiroth, hold him down.”

               “Cloud, let him,” Sephiroth said, a warning in his tone.

               “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sephiroth,” Cloud said with the exact same tone.

               Sephiroth looked at him curiously, but shook his head regardless.

               “Do it. We’ll sort it out later.”

               Hojo watched the exchange closely, his eyes narrowed, face and neck no longer red.

               Cloud waited, and waited, and then sighed. He held out his arm obligingly.

               “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t argue.”

               Hojo looked between the two, but picked up the needle from the silver tray at his side. He inserted it with little fanfare, but hesitated after he had pulled the plunger back only a hair.

               Inside the needle was not crimson red, but shining gold.

               Hojo looked up sharply. Cloud shrugged one shoulder.

               “You didn’t fall in a mako pool.”

               “I probably have at some point.”

               Hojo’s eyes narrowed.

               Sephiroth had a hand covering his eyes, sighing.

               “Remember, I _did_ say no,” Cloud protested, something that was almost a pout on his face.

               “ _Cloud_.”

               “What? I _did_.”

               “What is the explanation for this?”

               Cloud looked at Sephiroth, who at this point had lowered his hand. He sighed and gestured with it, shrugging.

               “It’s your decision. I warned you.”

               Cloud paused, then wrinkled his nose.

               He turned to Hojo and, dead-faced, blurted, “I’m a summon.”

               “… You’re a _what_?”

               “A summon. Like the materia.”

               “But you aren’t attacking anything. There’s no battle.”

               “I’m a bit of a … special case. I can do more than just fight.”

               “Such as?”

               “Pretty much anything. Even something as simple as a conversation.”

               Hojo stood briskly.

               “The President will want to hear about this, and I need clearance to proceed. Wait here.”

               Hojo swept out of the room.

               Sephiroth and Cloud looked at each other. Cloud shrugged.

               “I _did_ say no.”

               “You could have warned me that your blood would be a dead giveaway.”

               “You could have warned me that they would draw my blood.”

               “I thought you would know that that would be required.”

               “How the Hel am I supposed to know that, Sephiroth?”    

               “… It seemed like common knowledge.”

               “ _Why_ would that be common knowledge in Nibelheim? There’s only one doctor.”

               “There’s only one…? Regardless, this is going to go poorly.”

               “It wasn’t going great as it was.”

               “This will be worse, Cloud. You will be at Shinra’s beck and call. Either you will never get to leave your materia, or you will be little better than a slave of the company.”

               Cloud leaned back on one hand from where he was perched on the medical table.

               “From where I’m sitting, it doesn’t look like SOLDIERs are allowed much more freedom. You sure aren’t.”

               Sephiroth stiffened in a way that would be bristling on anyone else.

               “SOLDIERs are allowed freedoms. They have to keep up at least the pretense of respecting humanity. You, they won’t consider human. You’ll be materia to them. A thing, not a person.”

               “Then do me a favor. You remember the part about how I have to follow any order once I accept the initial command and leave the materia?”

               “I recall, yes.”

               “Keep that to yourself. I’ll manage the rest.”

               Sephiroth looked at him suspiciously.

               “How?”

               “I’ve gotten this far in life, haven’t I? Have some faith.”

               “That means something a little different with you,” Sephiroth grumbled.

               Cloud laughed. Sephiroth didn’t seem to think this was a situation for laughter.

               “Just do me a favor. There’s a girl down in the slums, in a church in Sector 5. It’s got a hole in the roof and flowers by the altar, you can’t mistake it. Let her know that Cloud Strife _really_ needs that favor, and if she can swing it, have our mutual friend come see me.”

               “Mutual friend?”

               “Don’t worry about it. Can you do that for me?”

               Sephiroth watched him with a blank look on his face.

               “I’ll do what I can.”

               Cloud grinned.

               “It’s a long shot, but I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

               Sephiroth sighed and said, “At least one of us does.”


	9. Chapter 9

               Cloud and Sephiroth waited primarily in silence for Hojo to return. The scientist took far longer than either was expecting. Sephiroth found his usually burning curiosity stifled by the recent events, and Cloud himself was largely resigned. The longer he waited, the more the reality of the situation grew on him. This was supposed to be fun. An excursion. A pleasure cruise, as Sephiroth put it. Now he was going to be set to work, slavishly, for a company of dubious morality or locked inside his materia. His only hope for escape rested with one slum girl’s connection to a deity who he doubted would be inclined toward the favor he had to ask.

               Still, there was nothing to be done for it. That’s what he told himself, at least, but he was always one prone to brooding. Tifa would have none of it if she was here. Planet, he wished she was here.

               Eventually, the door swung open with a creak. Hojo reappeared, this time with a recording device in hand along with his clipboard. He returned to the seat next to the table Cloud was still sitting on.

               “You’re to answer any question asked of you.”

               “And if I don’t feel so inclined?”

               The look Hojo gave him was hard, but it was also curious.

               “I have many methods of making you talk.”

               “Interrogation isn’t going to work. Believe it or not, Sephiroth couldn’t actually hold me down if he tried. Your chemicals won’t work. Exactly what were you planning on trying?”

               “Boredom. I can be patient, Strife. I can wait. From what I gather, someone is keeping your spell active, yes?” No answer was given. “Of course. And, judging by the situation, I’d guess the caster is Sephiroth?”

               At this, he looked to Sephiroth. Cloud, he had little sway over. Sephiroth had been manipulated until he was wrapped around his little finger many, many years ago. The General nodded his head.

               “Then,” Hojo continued. “I will have him cancel the spell. You will sit inert until I give you a chance to answer again. We will repeat this until you concede.”

               Cloud couldn’t help it. He laughed in Hojo’s face. The good doctor did not take kindly to it. He similarly did not like the look of smug, almost mocking disdain that took over Cloud’s face when his mirth passed.

               “I have sat inert for more than one human lifetime. Play that game if you’d like. I’ll wait until you die and try again.”

               Hojo’s face hardened further.

               “Very well. Traditional torture it will be, then.”

               “That won’t get you anywhere, either,” Cloud said, sounding almost bored. He leaned back casually on one hand, a single eyebrow raised.

               “Everyone has a breaking point, Strife.”

               “Yes, but you won’t be able to find mine.”

               “Then perhaps I’ll just have to enjoy taking you apart.”

               “How do you intend to do that? You have no means of restraining me. No bonds or chemicals you have will hold me.”

               “Magic, then.”

               “You don’t have a single person who can cast at a high enough level.”

               “Sephiroth.”

               Sephiroth, who had long since trained himself out of giving emotional signals in front of Hojo, did not scowl as he wanted to. He met Cloud’s eyes as the blond tilted his head curiously, but cast Barrier at the highest level possible. It should prevent Cloud from moving an inch.

               The god’s muscles flexed for a second before the spell just crumbled away, Cloud rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck.

               He raised an eyebrow at the professor again.

               “Fine,” Hojo snapped. “If the physical will not keep you, then perhaps emotional bonds will. You said you are from Nibelheim, yes?”

               At this, Cloud’s eyes narrowed dangerously. The room’s temperature dropped a few degrees. He did not answer, but in his silence, a smug smile overtook Hojo’s face.

               “Perhaps Shinra will pay a visit to the town. Start picking off the folk, maybe. Prolong their suffering. Raze it, even.”

               Two things were true in that moment. The first was that, if Shinra followed through, there would be nothing that would stop him from laying waste to everything the company held dear, had touched, had so much as _glanced_ at. His retribution would be steep and it would be painful. But he also knew that he himself would not survive the aftermath. If he was responsible for Nibelheim’s destruction, he would ruin Shinra, and then find a way to bring himself down with it. In more ways than the literal, he could not live without his people.

               Sephiroth watched behind the cold mask of his face, but was internally stunned. He could see the wheels turning in Cloud’s head as he weighed his options. He knew before the blond opened his mouth what the outcome would be, and he was stunned. Hadn’t the other gods of Nibelheim abandoned their people, gone somewhere else to start anew? Couldn’t Cloud? Wouldn’t it be better than submitting himself to Shinra?

               Cloud clearly didn’t think so.

               Sephiroth didn’t know what to make of it. All that he knew was that he respected it immensely.

               “You play a dangerous game, Professor.”

               “I play to win, summon.”

               There was another pause. It was long. It stretched painfully. Eventually, it broke.

               “Ask your questions,” Cloud snapped, not a hint of defeat in his tone or body language despite the fact that he had lost. No, it was all cold, cold rage, the likes of which Sephiroth had never seen before. He wondered how Hojo managed to sit as its object without being affected.

               “Wonderful,” the doctor said briskly, smugly. He turned on the recording device. “How are you given commands when you are summoned?”

               Cloud spoke through gritted teeth.

               “The caster’s desire, defined or implied, is taken as the command. When the spell is cast, I fulfill it. The spell ends when the command is complete.”

               “What kind of commands can you complete?”

               “Anything I am physically able to accomplish.”

               “Magic?”

               “Anything I am capable of.”

               “Is your will bound by the commands given?”

               “If the spell is successfully cast, I must complete the command.”

               He must complete the command, but at his own pace, under his own discretion. Details Shinra did not need to know.

               “Under what circumstances would the spell not be successfully cast?”

               “If the caster is not skilled enough. If the command is outside my capabilities. If I choose not to accept the command.”

               Hojo looked up sharply.

               “If you _choose_?”

               Cloud’s lips curled with a mocking tilt.

               “I cannot be forced.”

               “We shall see about that,” Hojo answered darkly. “Are other summons like you?”

               “I’m just one summon. How should I know the details of how the others work?”

               A rhetorical question. Hojo’s arrogance would fill in the gaps, that he was only a materia after all, he might know how he worked but of course, he wouldn’t know how the others worked. Hojo did not need to know the truth, and technically, Cloud had given him no lies.

               “What is your current command?”

               “I am to be present until I am dismissed.”

               “There is no direct action required in that.”

               “I’m aware.”

               Hojo looked up sharply. He snorted derisively. He flicked off the recorder.

               “Sephiroth, end the spell and hand me the materia.”

               Sephiroth looked up at Cloud, who nodded at him with a rare look of seriousness.

               “You’re dismissed,” he said to the god, who immediately vanished, as if he had never been.

               Sephiroth pulled the red materia from his bangle and held it out to the professor, who took it in hand. He held it up to the light to inspect it.

               “Looks like any other summon materia,” he mumbled. He continued to mumble to himself for a while before finally glancing up at Sephiroth with something like irritated surprise. “What are you still standing here for? You’re dismissed.”

               Sephiroth didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to leave Cloud in Hojo’s possession, most importantly. Nothing good would come from this. Nothing good at all. There was nothing he could do to help, however. He couldn’t get Cloud out.

               All he could do was try to get him his favor.

               So Sephiroth turned and left without another word. He pulled out his PHS and dialed Zack.

               As soon as his friend picked up, he spoke over his greeting, saying, “Meet me at the train station.” He quickly snapped his PHS shut again.

               The walk to the station was a blur. He was far too distracted, and if he was honest with himself, he was fretting. He was not one to fret—it was a pointless pastime and did no good for anyone. Yet here he was, worried about what would happen to Cloud, if Shinra would find out where he skimmed over the truth, what would happen to the _other_ summon materia, what sort of hell they had just unleashed for an entire world’s worth of gods.

               He was _still_ fretting when Zack came jogging up to him at the station.

               “What’s going on?”

               “We’re going down to the slums. Sector 5.”

               “Sector 5, huh? What’s down there?”

               They climbed aboard the train and sat themselves in the back. They were both given a wide, wide berth, as they always were, and at least if they were in the back they were out of the way while people did so. People stared at them, but they did so from a distance, so it wasn’t a huge issue.

               “A church. Hole in the roof, flowers in the front. Does it sound familiar? I know you frequent the Sector 5 slums.”

               “… Uh, yeah, yeah it does. That’s Aeris’s church, Sephiroth.”

               Sephiroth looked at him with faint surprise. He had heard more than enough about Aeris. Frankly, Zack rarely shut up about her.

               “Cloud is sending us down. He asked me for a favor. I thought I’d take you since you knew the area. Better than I expected, apparently. Did you know that Cloud knows Aeris?”

               “I didn’t until just now. They must have met—gods, what, today? That’s the only free time he’s had here. What could he possibly need with her? And why isn’t he going himself?”

               Sephiroth glanced up the train toward their onlookers, gauging the distance. They seemed out of earshot.

               “The tape of our spar was brought to the President’s attention. He intended to induct Cloud into SOLDIER, but apparently his blood is gold, which was alarming to the Professor. Cloud disclosed that he was a summon. They’re holding him and forcing him into compliance by threatening Nibelheim. I’m not sure if he fully understands how bad his position is right now.”

               “ _Shit_.” Simple but heartfelt. “And his response to all of this was to ask us to talk to Aeris? _Why?_ ”

               “I don’t know. She’s just a girl, isn’t she?”

               Zack bristled at the comment, but understood what his friend meant.

               “I mean, she’s special, but not _special_ , as far as I know. The Turks watch her for some reason. She’s the most wonderful girl in the world, but she can’t, like, break him out of there or anything. She can just barely use materia, and only because I taught her. She’s not bad with her staff. But really, that’s it. I’m not seeing what she can do to help.”

               “He wanted me to tell her to have their mutual friend visit him. I take it that’s not you?”

               “I mean, I don’t know why he wouldn’t just have you tell me yourself instead of this run around with Aeris if it _was_ , but I don’t see who else it _could_ be. Did Cloud know anyone in Midgar before getting here?”

               “If he did, he didn’t tell me about it. My understanding was that the only beings he knew were either in Nibelheim or gods themselves.”

               “That’s what I thought. I wonder who this friend is.”

               “We’ll just have to ask Aeris.”

               The train toddled its way around Midgar’s central pillar before finally dropping them off in the correct sector. For once, their walk wasn’t filled with Zack’s chattering. He apparently had too much on his mind, and either too much or not enough nerves to work out verbally.

               When they pushed open the doors to the church, Zack finally perked up. He had a bounce in his step as he made his way down the aisle to where Aeris was crouched at the flower bed. She had looked up at their entry, a wide smile on her face at first, but her eyes flickered to Sephiroth, and it dimmed a little. She looked him over slowly in a way Sephiroth hadn’t seen before. Everyone knew who he was, and he was used to reactions that ran the gamut. But he hadn’t seen this wariness since Wutai, and he had no idea what had caused it. What on earth had Zack told her? War stories?

               Sephiroth paused just inside the doorway, letting Zack approach his girlfriend in peace. When he was almost to her, her eyes finally went to him, and the smile returned. She popped to her feet and crossed to meet him, only to be swept up into an embrace and spun around. She laughed the whole way around, a brilliant, tinkling sound, before she was set on her feet again. There was a rise of color on her cheeks now and the smile on her face was soft and fond. Zack’s hands settled on her hips and hers on his shoulders as they shared a brief kiss that Sephiroth averted his eyes for.

               “Who’s your friend?” Aeris asked Zack, her voice carrying easily through the church. Sephiroth looked up in time to see her peeking around her SOLDIER, any earlier trepidation gone. He wrinkled his brow just a hair. She had to know who he was already. Everyone did.

               “Aeris, this is Sephiroth. Seph, you can come in, she doesn’t bite.”

               Sephiroth had half a mind to reprimand his lieutenant for the informal address in public, but this was his girlfriend, and she didn’t fully count as public. He doubted she hadn’t heard the nickname already anyway.

               He ambled slowly down the aisle to them, giving them time for their reunion, but they both seemed focused on him now. When he finally made it to them, he held his hand out to Aeris. He found she had a surprisingly firm grip.

               “Sephiroth,” he introduced, as professional about that as he was about everything else. She smiled warmly at him.

               “I’m Aeris. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now, I’m glad you finally got a chance to come down here.”

               “I admit I might have other motives than a simple social call.”

               “Oh? What can I do for you, Sephiroth?”

               That was where most people called him General. She was surprisingly informal. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised, considering whose arms she was currently stepping out of.

               “I’m here on a favor to a… friend. He says you know him. Cloud Strife?”

               Aeris blinked in surprise, her mouth a soft “O” as she looked between the two of them.

               “You two know Cloud?”

               “We recently brought him here from his home. How do you know him?”

               “I just met him today. He stopped by the church.”

               “Ah, that must have been where he was when I called.” But as he spoke, he put two and two together. His eyes sharpened.

               “Yes, he did get a phone call while he was here.”

               “So I take it you saw his rather hasty exit.”

               Sephiroth looked at Aeris. Aeris looked at Sephiroth. Zack looked in between the two.

               “Was there something special about how he left?” Zack eventually tried, as the silence hung longer and longer.

               “He teleported,” Sephiroth explained, still watching Aeris. Aeris, whose mind he could see whirling.

               “Oh. _Oh_ ,” Zack said, now looking at Aeris. “So you know, huh?”

               “I know what he is, yes,” she admitted.

               “I mean no offense, Miss Aeris—”

               “Oh, just Aeris, please.”

               “—But why would he see it fit to disclose such sensitive information to you if you had just met? He only told us because we already knew.”

               “… Oh boy,” Aeris whispered, looking between the two of them. “How about we all sit down, hm?”

               “Aeris?” Zack asked, but let her lead him by the hand to go sit on a pew. She sat down next to him and, after a long moment of being looked at expectantly, Sephiroth sat next to her.

               “I take it Zack has told you about how the Turks watch me.”

               “He’s mentioned it, yes,” Sephiroth confirmed.

               “They watch me because I’m what they call an Ancient.”

               Zack and Sephiroth looked at each other.

               “Cloud mentioned the Ancients, but he was talking about them from a long time ago. A _long_ time ago,” Zack said carefully.

               “There aren’t many left,” Aeris admitted, looking at her hands in her lap.

               “Cloud also mentioned that the Ancients worshiped Gaia. Is that the mutual friend you have?” Sephiroth asked.

               At that, Aeris did look up.

               “Cloud mentioned a mutual friend?”

               “He wanted me to tell you that he needs his favor very badly, and that if it’s possible, he’d like your mutual friend to go meet him. Which isn’t something very possible at the moment, but it would be if we were discussing a goddess.”

               Aeris hesitated, pursing her lips first to the right, then to the left.

               “Ancients have a very special relationship with the Planet. We… communicate. Cloud wanted me to talk to Gaia for him.”

               “Wait, wait, wait. You can talk to the _Planet?_ ”

               “Shhh,” Aeris hushed, glancing toward the door. “Keep your voice down. I’m not supposed to tell _anyone_ any of this. Shinra won’t be happy that you two know, so I hope you can keep a secret.”

               “We handle classified information well,” Sephiroth assured. “Will you be able to speak to her, then?”

               “I can certainly try. Getting an answer out of Her isn’t an exact science. It might take some time.”

               “Time is of the essence, Aeris. Cloud is in a particularly bad situation. Hopefully he’s right, and Gaia can get him out of it.”

               “… Hey, Seph, you don’t think…”

               “That Cloud wants her to abolish the materia? I do.”

               “He wants her to _what?_ ” Aeris asked, looking between the two men.

               “It was something we had discussed. The gods, with the exception of Gaia, are confined to the summon materia. Apparently it’s a rather unpleasant existence. I suggested that he bring it up with Gaia, as she was the one who created the situation, to see if she might undo it,” Sephiroth explained.

               Aeris’s brow was puckered.

               “Why would she…? She must have had a good reason for it, though.”

               “From what it sounded like, the materia was sorta like time out for gods. It seems like it’s been going on a bit too long though.”

               Aeris pursed her lips again, but sighed. She stood, brushing off the skirt of her dress, and took a step away so she could turn to face the SOLDIERs.

               “Then I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you two to leave. It sounds like I’ve got some work to do.” She softened the blow with a smile and said, “But come back soon, okay? I’ll call Zack if I get a hold of Gaia.”

               “Good enough for me,” Zack said, popping to his feet with a little hop. Sephiroth was much more sedate in how he climbed to his feet. He took a step forward and held out his hand to Aeris, whose earlier hesitance was replaced with determination when she took it.

               “It was a pleasure meeting you. I appreciate the work you’re doing to help Cloud. He might be a god, but he could use the help right now, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

               “Pretty ominous, but I’m happy to help. Whatever’s going on doesn’t sound good, and I don’t want him in a bad spot any more than you do.”

               Sephiroth let her hand go, nodded firmly once in a goodbye, and made his way toward the door. He didn’t look over his shoulder, but he slowed his steps to something sedate in order to give the couple time to say goodbye. He was almost at the door when Zack reached his shoulder, jogging to catch up. He pushed the doors open with enthusiasm and stepped through with a purpose.

               “Well that was, uh, more than I was expecting.”

               “Zack, hold your tongue.”

               “Right, right. Just… I hope she can help. I really do. I don’t like the sound of what’s happening, Sephiroth. Not one bit.”

               “I know. Neither do I.”


	10. Chapter 10

               Cloud watched from his materia as Hojo paced the lab. He was making notes and mumbling to himself about the theory of summons, how this could change everything, could the summons have information on the Promised Land? He found himself something bordering on anxious. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but he knew it wouldn’t be good. Sephiroth’s own anxiety had been enough of a clue in on that. Part of him wished he had killed Hojo outright, still wished to kill him in fact, but that would have done no good. Shinra would have replacements for him. Sephiroth and Zack were the only ones who would move his materia, and both of them were bound to Shinra. They wouldn’t break protocol to move him to safety, and he wouldn’t ask them to. They would have to continue their lives once he was safe, and he wouldn’t want to put them in a precarious position for his sake.

               Somewhere along the line he had adopted them into his fold, counted them as his own. Whether they knew it or not, whether they wanted it or not, he would take care of them to the best of his ability. They weren’t Nibel folk, but they were made of the same stern stuff. They had clearly seen much and, despite the act Sephiroth put up, were caring enough to help him for very little in return. They were honorary Nibel in his book. As such, he was loathe to ask them for as much as he had already, but that was the way of things. Humans gave so that the gods could give back. Zack and Sephiroth would never give him worship, that much he was fairly certain of, but they could give him their aid. That was gift enough for him to justify helping them in return.

               Cloud kept half an eye on Zack and Sephiroth, watched them meet with Aeris. He hadn’t known they knew each other, but somehow that felt right. Zack and Aeris made a good set. Now all he could do was hope that Aeris was able to get a hold of Gaia. He couldn’t imagine there were many Cetra running around still, she must have a fairly solid line of communication. But still, he knew Gaia. She was the Planet, and she moved like it. She was slow-moving, took her time in everything. There was no more way to rush her than there was to rush the seasons. When she wanted to, she moved quick as lightning, but that took her will and keen attention, which they didn’t currently have. He would have to wait. All he could do was hope he wouldn’t do too much damage in the meantime.

               He had told the scientist that he was a special summon, that he worked differently from the others, but he would be a poor scientist if he didn’t try to test what Cloud had said with other summons. He would find out soon enough that what worked with Cloud would work with the others. He was putting all of the gods at risk, the tenuous safety they had in peril. They could be turned into slaves very quickly if this went wrong. The gods were used to serving humanity, in their own way, but what Hojo would want ran very counter to their own interests. He had no interest in being the one responsible for the second falling of the gods, but he was selfish, in his own way. He refused to sacrifice Nibelheim. He had had support from many different allies over the years, but only Nibelheim stood by him through everything. Only Nibelheim had his complete trust. He knew those folk, knew he could rely on them, knew they deserved everything that it was in his power to give. He couldn’t give them up. No matter the cost to the gods.

               Still, Cloud eyed Hojo nervously as he pulled out another red materia. His stomach sank. A small part of him hoped that Hojo was just quack enough to not attempt anything with the other summons, but his luck had never actually been very good.

               “You are to come out and speak with me until I dismiss you,” the professor said to the orb in his hand, which sparked and lit in his palm. The materia glowed, and a figure materialized from it, standing in front of Hojo.

               Cloud’s stomach sank further.

               This was the last thing he wanted.

               Oh, Planet, he was in for it.

               There, in all her glory, stood Tifa.

               This was not the reunion he wanted.

               She was wrapped in black and white. Her black skirt was high in the front and low in the back, hanging around her in pleats that allowed her an incredible range of movement—he had seen that in action plenty of times. Her top was white leather, molded to her, a fitted vest that protected her torso while leaving her arms free to move as she liked. She was a battle goddess as much as he was a war god. Her long hair was bound behind her in a mass of complicated braids that pulled her hair out of her face and kept it neatly out of the way behind her. Her eyes flashed with a fury that Cloud knew better than he wished.

               Within his materia, with what little room he had to move, he winced.

               “How do you know how to request my presence?”

               “You aren’t asking the questions, summon.”

               Her eyes _blazed_.

               “I’m not saying a word more to you until you answer my question.”

               “My order was for you to speak with me. You will speak with me.”

               Tifa didn’t answer. The command was loose enough—she had spoken. Technically, she had fulfilled that portion of the command, and was just waiting on her dismissal. She didn’t have to do anything else if she didn’t want to. She folded her arms over her chest and waited impatiently.

               “Interesting,” Hojo mumbled, taking notes on his clipboard. “There is flexibility within the confines of the order. Increased specificity with the command will be required.”

               Tifa stared at him, but a muscle in her jaw jumped. Not a good sign.

               Hojo coughed, pushed his glasses up his nose, and said, “Another summon explained that there is more flexibility with commands than we were aware of.”

               “I want a name.”

               Tifa’s imperious tone clearly irritated Hojo.

               His tone was waspish when he said, “Cloud Strife.”

               Tifa’s face went slack with surprise. Cloud swore to himself as Hojo began taking notes furiously.

               “You know it, then?” Hojo asked, still writing.

               “Yes, I know him. Where is he?”

               “In its materia, waiting to be summoned.”

               There was a softness about Tifa now, one that Hojo noticed. Cloud pressed a fist to the barrier of his materia. Didn’t Tifa know how dangerous it was to give anything away? Didn’t she know to give the enemy as little as possible? She was better at this in war, but she probably didn’t know yet that this _was_ the enemy.

               Hojo finished taking his notes and approached the shelf where Cloud was sitting. He Tifa’s into a slot, then Cloud’s in next to it, and flicked energy into the orb.

               “You are to speak with me until you are dismissed.”

               Cloud flickered into existence in front of Hojo, free of the confines of his materia. He completely ignored the scientist, looking just at Tifa with something hard on his face. The softness in her eyes grew, along with a sadness. She thought the look on his face was in lingering anger for Nibelheim’s sake, he was sure. Now was not the time to discuss ages-old disagreements.

               “Cloud—”

               He shook his head.

               “By all means, have your discussion. Or is it reunion, perhaps? Pretend I’m not even here.”

               “Cloud, I—”

               “The less you know, the better, scientist,” Cloud said, ice in his tone. He was still looking at Tifa, watching the understanding bloom on her face. He nodded, and she returned it, slowly.

               Hojo tsked.

               “You are to cooperate, summon.”

               “You told me to speak. I’m speaking, aren’t I?” Cloud answered, glancing at Hojo out of the corner of his eye, something snide on his face. He was rarely this way, with pretty much anyone in fact, but this man was holding him captive, had Nibelheim under threat. He bore Hojo no love.

               “Fine,” Hojo snapped. “You’re dismissed.”

               Cloud vanished as quickly as he came.

               Tifa’s hand twitched forward to reach for him before it formed a little fist and fell to her side.

               “You are to answer any question asked truthfully until you are dismissed.”

               Cloud reappeared, his face a wall of stone.

               “Do you know this summon?” Hojo asked.

               “I do.”

               “What is its name?”

               “ _Her_ name is Tifa.”

               Tifa watched him with sadness. They both knew he couldn’t refuse the questions now, and he couldn’t lie. He was helpless to interfere with the interrogation.

               “Tifa. How do you know each other?”

               A little wiggle room, but not much. How to give him as little as possible?

               “We’re from the same area.”

               “Nibelheim?”

               “Yes.”

               “How did you two come about? Is there a mako fountain in the town? It’s highly unlikely for two summons to be created from the same fountain.”

               Carefully, carefully. Planet, but verbal warfare was _not_ Cloud’s strong suit.

               “There is a mako fountain in town, yes.”

               “Interesting. I’ll have to see what is so special about that fountain that it yields such high value materia. Perhaps it can be replicated,” Hojo muttered, scribbling on his pad. He then turned to Tifa. “Your materia was found far from Nibelheim. Why is that?”

               “I moved. Long ago,” Tifa said. She had caught on to give Hojo as little as possible, then. Good. She might not know all the details of the situation, and Cloud doubted they would be left alone for him to bring her up to speed, but at least she still trusted him enough to follow his lead.

               “Your materia was moved. Who moved it?”

               Tifa glanced at Cloud. He frowned. She hadn’t been told to be truthful, but did she remember that?

               “I don’t know,” she answered.

               Cloud bit back his sigh of relief.

               “Interesting. Do you have limited awareness inside the materia?”

               “No.”

               Okay, maybe Tifa could think about lying a _little_ more.

               “Then how do you not know who moved you?”

               “They were humans,” she said, forcing disdain into her tone. It wasn’t genuine—Cloud knew what that sounded like from her, and this wasn’t it. But it would be convincing enough. “You all look the same.”

               In another circumstance, it would have been hilarious to hear from Tifa. Tifa, who took as much interest in the little people as Cloud did. More than he did, in the old days, when the whole pantheon was in Nibelheim and he wasn’t supporting the entire village himself. She’d always known every last name, every single face.

               Hojo’s nose wrinkled and he snorted his disgust.

               “Come, both of you. I require blood samples.” When neither moved to follow him, he stopped, turned to them, and said, “Remember, Nibelheim is on the line.”

               Tifa looked at Cloud sharply. His face was set like steel, but he followed Hojo. She fell into line beside him.

               In a different time, in a different place, she would have taken his hand, for both of their comfort. They used to be each other’s lifeline. It was hard not to take that familiar old comfort now that the chance was there, after so very long. But this was not the time or the place to show weakness or dependence.

               They trailed Hojo to a little silver tray standing alone in the center of the room. He had ten needles sitting lined up on the tray. Tifa glanced at Cloud, but he didn’t look back at her.

               “Hold out your arm,” Hojo said to Cloud.

               Cloud obeyed, but his face made it very clear that he wanted nothing more than to spit in Hojo’s face. Hojo slipped the tourniquet around his arm and tied it off. He made quick work of drawing five vials of Cloud’s blood, before repeating the process with Tifa. Hers glowed the way his did, the way mako did, but was red in color. Hojo hummed his curiosity.

               Cloud wasn’t sure what he intended to do with it. Test its properties? He doubted it would be very different from mako in the end. But then he remembered exactly what Shinra liked to do with mako.

               “I don’t recommend using it on other living creatures,” Cloud warned, knowing Hojo would ignore it, but also knowing that he had to try.

               “Oh? And why is that?”

               “There may be temporary benefits, but it will be bad for them in the end. Possibly deadly.”

               Hojo’s voice was incredibly quiet when he said, “Temporary is all I need.”

               It confirmed Cloud’s suspicions. SOLDIER was never intended to be a long term solution. They would be kept around until they were no longer needed or no longer functional, when they would either be disposed of or replaced with a new version. It made Cloud grind his teeth.

               “You’re both dismissed.”

               The gods didn’t even have time to look at each other before they vanished.

               Cloud watched from his confines as Hojo went about the rest of his day. He tested the chemical structure of their blood, finding it to be similar both to each other and to mako. He muttered his hypotheses, all of which were incredibly far off. He considered them to be materia, and that was all. Their blood was similar to mako because materia was born from mako. He failed to consider that they were gods, just as Gaia was, and that the blood of the gods all contained the same spark of divinity.

               He watched over the next few days as Hojo injected a portion of their blood into different creatures, monitoring the side effects. They had slightly different effects than mako. Mako increased the healing ability of the subject slightly more. His increased speed more than the others. Tifa’s boosted stamina. They all had the same universal effects, but there were the little changes that made a difference.

               When he watched Sephiroth walk into the exam room where Hojo was waiting, he knew what was about to happen.

               “No,” he whispered, pressing a hand to the wall of the materia.

               “Professor. What do you need?”

               “I have a new injection for you. Sit.”

               “I am to be informed of any changes in procedure prior to their implication, Professor,” Sephiroth reminded, but obediently went to sit on the table as directed.

               “I have clearance from the President to ignore protocol. Remove your coat and hold out your arm.”

               Cloud knew, _knew_ that was untrue. The professor had updated the President on his findings, but had not asked for or been granted any such thing. He willed Sephiroth to call him on it, but the General was apparently blinded to some things.

               Sephiroth and Cloud both watched as Hojo held up a syringe filled with liquid, glowing gold.

               “No!” Cloud shouted, slamming as best he could into the edge of the materia. The orb gave a little quiver in its slot, but it wasn’t enough to distract the professor.

               He tried again, and again, and again, despite knowing it was futile. Each time, the materia shook, but remained firmly in its place.

               “No,” Cloud mumbled again, pressing his forehead to the wall in helplessness. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to do this to Sephiroth. He had not seen the blood of the gods injected into humans before, but he had seen blood-bonding, two cuts pressed together to unite two people. He knew what it did between gods—it was a sacred thing. It was an _important_ thing, a step not to be taken lightly, and certainly not without both parties knowledge and consent. This was—this was blasphemy. Sacrilege of the worst kind. Profane. He wished with every part of him to be able to stop it, but he could pull a storm in through the window, and Hojo would just try again later. He could delay this, surely, but he could not stop it, and any delays he attempted, if they were found out to be caused by him, could have disastrous effects for Nibelheim.

               “I’m sorry, Sephiroth,” he whispered, closing his eyes with an aching heart.

               Hojo slipped the needle into Sephiroth’s arm, completed the injection, pressed an alcohol wipe across the wound, and didn’t even bother to bandage it before turning away. It was already healed by the time his back was turned.

               “Return to your rooms. You are to return tomorrow for a follow up.”

               Sephiroth left without another word, but had to fight not to stumble. It was very much like a mako injection, leaving him weak at the edges and a fierce ache setting into his joints. His stomach rebelled and his vision began to swim. He collapsed in a chair outside in the waiting room and called for Zack, asking him to come pick him up from the Science Department.

               Cloud stopped paying attention. He was focusing, now, waiting for the inevitable. He had never been blood-bonded—he had been waiting. He doubted, after the pantheon left, that he would ever find the right person, had known he never would after the materia encasement happened, but he never could have dreamed this was what would happen. Blood-bonded against his will, to someone who didn’t even know the consequences. To a mortal, no less. Did that make a difference? Did that change things? He knew so little about blood-bonding as it was. He was not the right person to know what to do in this situation, but as it was, he was trapped in his materia. He couldn’t go to Sephiroth, despite how he wanted to, and damn it all for that.           

               Zack came and got Sephiroth, brought him back up to his rooms. Only when he had him settled on his own couch, the door safely shut behind him, did he ask, “So, did they give you an early mako injection?”

               “No, it was… Zack, I think it was Cloud’s blood.”

               “It was _what_?”

               “It looked like it. His blood looked like golden mako, and that’s what this looked like. I know he said that mako was Gaia’s blood, so maybe this will be similar. It certainly feels like mako injection aftermath.”

               “That’s what it looks like. I don’t know how to feel about them shooting you up with his _blood_ though.”

               “I’m not too fond of the idea, either. It’s one thing when it’s a faceless deity that represents the Planet, another when it’s someone I’ve met and spoken to.”

               “Right. It’s a little weird.”

               “You’re telling me.”

               “Well, you want me to stick around, or give you some space?”

               “Did you hear anything from Aeris yet?”

                 
               “Not yet.”

               “Some space, then, I think. Keep me updated.”

               “Will do. Get some rest, Seph.”

               Cloud watched from a distance as Zack left the room. Then he shut his eyes and pulled his awareness away from where it had been following the General. He waited, and he waited, and he waited. Sephiroth waited and waited, not knowing what he was waiting for, only knowing that a part of him expected this to be different from the mako somehow.

               And eventually, it happened. Cloud felt it, like a hook in the heart. Something tugging him away, up, up, up and to the right. He could visualize perfect where Sephiroth was, his exact location. And, so many floors above him, Sephiroth could feel the same pull, only he didn’t know what it was. His brow furrowed, knowing he felt a longing tug at his edges, but not knowing what it was pulling him toward.

               Cloud took a deep breath. He knew what made blood-bonding sacred, and it wasn’t this pull. He would have to try sooner or later, might as well try now.

               _“Sephiroth?”_

               Sephiroth sat bolt upright. The phantom voice had come out of nowhere, popping into his head, but he knew the voice very well now.

               _“Cloud?”_

               Cloud swore quietly.

               _“I was kind of hoping that wouldn’t work.”_

_“That what wouldn’t work? What’s going on?”_

_“Hojo blood-bonded us, the fool. He doesn’t know what he did.”_

_“I don’t know what blood-bonding is, Cloud, but you’re not making it sound very good.”_

_“It’s not supposed to be done like this, Sephiroth. It’s a sacred rite, and not one to be done lightly. It’s only supposed to be done with two informed, willing parties. I’m so, so sorry he did this to you.”_

_“Whatever he’s done, he did it to both of us, not just me. Now, tell me what blood-bonding is.”_

_“It’s usually done with two deities. It’s the sharing of divine blood. It binds both parties, permanently. We’ll always know where the other is. We’ll be able to communicate silently from any distance, like we’re doing now. We’ll know what the other is feeling. I don’t know if anything else will happen—I’ve never seen it done with a human. I’m sorry, Sephiroth, I know you didn’t ask to be bound to me, but I don’t know how to undo it. I don’t think it can be done.”_

Sephiroth was immediately self-conscious of the way that he was fighting down panic. He was succeeding, he always did, but no one used to know when he felt the bubbling of panic that he always quashed. Now he knew that Cloud could feel it. But the god left it alone, didn’t bring it up. He was trying not to intrude as much as possible, and that counted for something.

               _“I have Gaia’s blood in me as well, but the same thing didn’t happen with her. Why?”_

_“Gaia, she—she’s so powerful, she doesn’t play by the same rules as everyone else. If the gods were to have a god, it’d be her. She has power over us. I don’t think she can be bound the way we can. But, Sephiroth, we have to do something quick. If Hojo thinks this goes well, he plans to inject you with Tifa’s blood next. I don’t know what happens when someone is blood-bound twice, but it’s not supposed to happen. You’re lucky you’re not sick from sharing both my and Gaia’s blood. I don’t want to think what will happen if you’re bound to Tifa as well.”_

_“Tifa? Who’s Tifa?”_

_“A friend of mine. A goddess. Hojo has her as well.”_

_“I should have known he’d try it on another summon. We’re lucky he picked one that will cooperate with us.”_

_“You don’t know how lucky. I surprised she still trusts me.”_

_“She was one of the ones that left Nibelheim, then?”_

_“She is. I haven’t seen her since. This wasn’t the reunion I wanted.”_

_“I’m sorry, Cloud.”_

_“Don’t apologize, Sephiroth, please. You don’t even know how much you’ve been wronged today.”_

_“I’ve got a vague idea. Still, I’m glad it was you and not Tifa. You, at least, I know to be honorable.”_

_“I’m not honorable, Sephiroth. I fight about as dirty as it gets. I get the job done first and worry about honor second.”_

_“I’m not talking about you in a fight, I’m talking about you in life. You stood by Nibelheim when no one else would. You continued to stick by them even though it compromised your safety and freedom. I call that honor.”_

_“… Maybe. It doesn’t matter. This shouldn’t have been done to you.”_

_“But it was. And, if it had to be, I’m glad it was you.”_

Cloud sighed, and Sephiroth could hear it.

               _“Go get some rest. You probably feel like you got hit by a truck. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, but humanity and divinity don’t mix well.”_

_“I will, if you promise to keep me up to date on what Hojo is doing with you.”_

_“I promise. Now, go sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”_

_“Goodnight, then.”_

_“Rest well, Sephiroth.”_


End file.
